University  of 

California 

Irvine 


•DA 


LONDON 


BY 


WALTER   BESANT 

AUTHOR    OF   "  ALL   SORTS    AND  CONDITIONS    OF   MEN  ' 
"  FIFTY   YEARS  AGO  "    ETC. 


WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS 


NEW    YORK 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  FRANKLIN  SQUARE 


Copyright,  1892,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  reserved. 


PREFACE 


IN  the  following  chapters  it  has  been  my  endeavor  to 
present  pictures  of  the  City  of  London — instantaneous  pho- 
tographs, showing  the  streets,  the  buildings,  and  the  citizens 
at  work  and  at  play.  Above  all,  the  citizens:  with  their 
daily  life  in  the  streets,  in  the  shops,  in  the  churches,  and  in 
the  houses ;  the  merchant  in  the  quays  and  on  'Change ; 
the  shopkeeper  of  Cheapside ;  the  priests  and  the  monks 
and  the  friars ;  the  shouting  of  those  who  sell ;  the  laughter 
and  singing  of  those  who  feast  and  drink;  the  ringing  of 
the  bells  ;  the  dragging  of  the  criminal  to  the  pillory;  the 
Riding  of  the  Lord  Mayor  and  Aldermen  ;  the  river  with  its 
boats  and  barges ;  the  cheerful  sound  of  pipe  and  tabor ; 
the  stage  with  its  tumblers  and  its  rope-dancers ;  the  'pren- 
tices with  their  clubs ;  the  evening  dance  in  the  streets.  I 
want  my  pictures  to  show  all  these  things.  The  history  of 
London  has  been  undertaken  by  many  writers  ;  the  present- 
ment of  the  city  and  the  people  from  age  to  age  has  never 
yet,  I  believe,  been  attempted. 

The  sources  whence  one  derives  the  materials  for  such 
an  attempt  are,  in  the  earlier  stages,  perfectly  well  known 
and  accessible  to  all.  Chaucer,  Froissart,  Lydgate,  certain 
volumes  of  the  "Early  English  Text  Society,"  occur  to 
everybody.  But  the  richest  mine,  for  him  who  digs  after 
the  daily  life  of  the  London  .citizen  during  the  fourteenth 
and  fifteenth  centuries,  is  certainly  Riley's  great  book  of 
Extracts  from  the  City  Records.  If  there  is  any  life  or 


vi  PREFACE 

any  reality  in  the  three  chapters  of  this  book  which  treat  of 
the  Plantagenet  period,  it  is  certainly  due  to  Riley. 

As  regards  the  Tudor  period,  the  wealth  of  illustration  is 
astonishing.  One  might  as  well  be  writing  of  the  city  life 
of  this  day,  so  copious  are  the  materials.  But  it  is  not  to 
Shakespeare  and  the  dramatists  that  we  must  look  for  the 
details  so  much  as  to  the  minor  writers,  the  moralists  and 
satirists,  of  whom  the  ordinary  world  knows  nothing. 

The  reign  of  Charles  II.  directs  one  to  the  Plague  and  to 
the  Fire.  I  was  fortunate  in  finding  two  tracts,  one  dealing 
with  the  plague  of  1603,' and  the  other  with  that  of  1625. 
These,  though  they  are  earlier  than  Charles  II.,  were  inval- 
uable, as  illustrating  the  effect  of  the  pestilence  in  causing 
an  exodus  of  all  who  could  get  away,  which  took  place  as 
much  in  these  earlier  years  as  in  1666.  Contemporary  tracts 
on  the  state  of  London  after  the  Fire,  also  happily  discov- 
ered, proved  useful.  And  when  the  Plague  and  the  Fire 
had  been  dismissed,  another  extraordinary  piece  of  good 
fortune  put  me  in  possession  of  certain  household  accounts 
which  enabled  me  to  present  a  bourgeois  family  of  the  pe- 
riod at  home. 

Where  there  is  so  much  to  speak  about,  one  must  exer- 
cise care  in  selection.  I  have  endeavored  to  avoid  as  much 
as  possible  those  points  which  have  already  been  presented. 
For  instance,  the  growth  of  the  municipality,  the  rise  of 
the  Guilds  and  the  Companies,  the  laws  of  London,  the  re- 
lations of  the  City  to  the  Sovereign  and  the  State— these 
things  belong  to  the  continuous  historian,  not  to  him 
who  draws  a  picture  of  a  given  time.  In  the  latter  case  it 
is  the  effect  of  law,  not  its  growth,  which  is  important. 
Thus  I  have  spoken  of  the  pilgrimizing  in  the  time  of 
Henry  II.;  of  the  Mysteries  of  that  time;  things  that  be- 
longed to  the  daily  life ;  rather  than  to  matters  of  policy, 


PREFACE  vii 

the  stubborn  tenacity  of  the  City,  or  the  changes  that  were 
coming  over  the  conditions  of  existence  and  of  trade. 
Again,  in  Plantagenet  London  one  might  have  dwelt  at 
length  upon  the  action  taken  by  London  in  successive  civil 
wars.  That,  again,  belongs  to  the  historian.  I  have  con- 
tented myself  with  sketching  the  churches  and  the  monas- 
teries, the  palaces  and  the  men-at-arms,  the  merchants  and 
the  workmen. 

Again,  in  the  time  of  George  II.,  the  increase  of  trade, 
which  then  advanced  by  leaps  and  bounds,  the  widening  of 
the  world  to  London  enterprise,  the  part  which  London  took 
in  the  conquest  of  India  and  the  ejection  of  France  from 
North  America  belong  to  history.  For  my  own  part  I  have 
preferred  to  show  the  position,  the  influence,  and  the  work 
of  the  Church  at  a  time  generally  believed  to  be  the  deadest 
period  in  the  whole  history  of  the  Church  of  England.  This 
done,  I  have  gone  on  to  illustrate  the  day-by-day  life  of  the 
citizens,  with  the  prices  of  things,  the  management,  and  the 
appearance  of  the  City. 

One  thing  remains  to  be  said.  Mr.  Loftie,  in  his  His- 
tory of  London  (Stadford),  first  gave  the  world  a  recon- 
struction of  the  ground — the  terrain— of  London  and  its 
environs  before  ever  a  house  was  erected  or  an  acre  cleared. 
The  first  chapter  of  this  book — that  on  Roman  London  and 
After — is  chiefly  due  to  a  study  of  this  map,  and  to  realiz- 
ing what  that  map  means  when  applied  to  the  scanty  records 
of  Augusta.  This  map  enabled  me  to  recover  the  )'ears 
which  followed  the  retreat  of  the  Romans.  I  cannot  allow 
this  chapter  to  be  called  a  Theory.  It  is,  I  venture  to  claim 
for  it,  nothing  less  than  a  Recovery. 

WALTER   BESANT. 
UNITED  UNIVERSITY  CLUB: 
May  2,  1892. 


CONTENTS 


I.  AFTER   THE    ROMANS , 

II.  SAXON    AND    NORMAN 43 

III.  PLANTAGENET ,o5 

IV.  PLANTAGENET  —  CONTINUED '  .    .    .    .  ,5S 

V.  PLANTAGENET  —  CONTINUED 215 

VI.  TUDOR a6j 

VII.  TUDOR— CONTINUED 3,0 

VIII.  CHARLES   THE    SECOND  . 


IX.     GEORGE    THE    SECOND 


INDEX 


37' 


429 


501 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Stowe's  Monument,  in  North  Aisle  of  St.  Andrew  Under- 

shaft 2 

Roman  Marble  Sarcophagus.     Guildhall 4 

Statues  of  Mercury,  Apollo  r  and  Jupiter  or  Neptune :  found 

in  the  Thames,  1837 6 

Bronze  Articles  for  Domestic  Use S 

Bronze  Fibula  and  other  Ornaments  :  found  in  London    .    ..  n 

Roman  Pavement :  Leadenhall  Street 14 

Bronze  Bust  of  the  Emperor  Hadrian  :  found  in  the  Thames. 

British  Museum 77 

A  Bit  of  Roman  Wall.   From  a  Photograph  by  W.  H.  Grove, 

174  Brompton  Road 20 

Lamps  and  Lamp-stand 23 

Sepulchral  Cists,  etc. :  found  in  Warwick  Square,  Newgate 

Street,  1881.     British  Museum 32 

Roman  Keys.     Guildhall 34 

Toilet  Articles — Hair-pins;  Hair-pin  (Sarina,  Wife  of  Ha- 
drian) ;  Bone  Comb  and  Case  (Cloakham)  ;  Bone  Comb 

(Lower  Thames  Street) 36 

Statuettes :  found  in  Thames  Street,  1889.     Guildhall   .     .     .  39 

Roman  Amphorce 41 

London  Stone,  Cannon  Street,  as  it  appeared  in  1800     .     .     .  45 

Battle  between  Two  Armed  Knights 49 

River  Tilting  in  the  Twelfth  Century 52 

Crypt :  Remains  of  the  Collegiate  Church  of  St.  Martin-le- 

Grand,  N.E 54 

The  Founder  s  Tomb,  St.  Bartholomew  the  Great,  E.C.,  found- 
ed 1123 37 

South  Ambulatory,  Church  of  St.  Bartholomew,  founded  1123  61 


xii  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

6V.  Katherines  by  the  Tower 64 

Interior  of  the  Church  of  St.  Katherines  by  the  Tower     .     .  63 

Dowgate  Dock 68 

St.  Saviour's  Dock 7° 

North-east  View  of  St.  Saviour  s 73 

Plan  of  Saxon  Church,  Bradford-on-Avon 76 

Saxon  Church,  Seventh  or  Eighth  Century,  Bradford-on- 
Avon     77 

Sculptured  Angel,  Saxon  Church 78 

View  of  Interior  of  Saxon  Church,  showing  very  remarka- 
ble Chancel  Arch  and  Entrance 79 

First  Stone  London  Bridge,  begun  A.D.  1176 82 

Crypt,  or  Lower  Chapel,  of  St.  Thomas's  Church,  London 

Bridge 84 

West  Front  of  Chapel  on  London  Bridge 85 

Part  of  London  Wall  in  the  Church-yard  of  St.  Giles,  Crip- 

plegate 88 

Entrance  to  Knights  Hospitallers 90 

Buildings  of  Knights  Hospitallers 91 

Crypt  in  Bow  Church,  from  the  North  Side,  near  the  East 

End  of  the  Nave 95 

Interior  of  Porch  of  the  Parish  Church  of  St.  Alphege,  Lon- 
don Wall,  formerly  the  Chapel  of  the  Priory  of  St.  El- 

synge  Spital 97 

The  Arms  and  Seals  of  the  Prior  and  Convent  of  St.  Saviour 

at  Bermondsey 101 

A  City  Monument 107 

Ruins  (1796)  of  the  Nunnery  of  St.  Helen,  Bishopsgate  Street  no 

St.  Helens,  Bishopsgate ffj 

South-west  View  of  the  Interior  of  the  Church  of  St.  Helen, 

Bishopsgate  Street 116 

Church  of  St.  Augustin  {St.  Austin) 119 

Church  of  Austin  Friars 122 

Christ's  Hospital,  from  the  Cloisters 126 

The  Charter  House 130 

Ruins  of  the  Convent  of  Nuns  Minories,  1810 133 

Bow  Church,  Mile  End  Road 137 

North-east  View  of  Waltham  Abbey  Church,  Essex     .     .     .  140 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xiii 

FACE 

Walt  ham  Abbey  Church,  Essex,  before  Restoration      .     .     .  145 

Porch  of  St.  Sepulchre's  Church 148 

Sottth  View  of  the  Palace  of  the  Bishops  of  Winchester,  near 

St.  Saviour's 151 

Charing  Cross.    Erected  by  Edward  I.  in  memory  of  Queen 

Eleanor  of  Castile 156 

Church  of  St.  Paul's  before  the  Fire 158 

Monuments  of  St.  Paul's  which  survived  the  Fire  (east  end 

of  North  Crypt) 160 

Ancient  North-east  View  of  Bishopsgate  Street 162 

The  College  of  Arms,  or  Herald's  Office 164 

Bridewell 165 

View  of  the  Savoy  from  the  Thames 165 

View  of  the  South  Front  of  Baynard's  Castle,  about  1640    .  i6"j 
View  of  Cold  Harbor,  in  Thames  Street,  about  1600     .     .     .  i"ji 

Crosby  House,  Bishopsgate  Street /7j> 

Interior  of  Crosby  Hall 775 

Interior  of  part  of  Crosby  Hall,  called  the  Council  Room, 

looking  East //<? 

Gateway,  etc.,  in  Crosby  Square  (now  destroyed)       ....  180 

Crosby  Hall iSj 

North-east  View  of  Crosby  Hall,  showing  part  of  the  Inte- 
rior of  the  Great  Hall 187 

Gerrard's  Hall icji 

Bridewell  Palace,  about  1660,  with  the  Entrance  to  the  Fleet 

River,  part  of  the  Black  Friars,  etc /pj 

The  Thames  Front,  A.D.  1540 /p/ 

Ancient  Court  of  Bridewell  Palace 201 

Old  Charing  Cross 216 

The  Strand  (1547),  with  the  Strand  Cross,  Covent  Garden, 

and  the  Procession  of  Edward  VI.  to  his  Coronation  at 

Westminster 241 

Arms  of  Sir  Richard  Whittington 244 

Arms  granted  to  the  Craft  of  the  Ironmongers  of  London  by 

Lancaster  King  of  Arms,  A. D.  1466 246 

Guildhall,  King  Street,  London 248 

^Blackwell  Hall,  King  Street 231 

Ancient  Plate 254 


XJV  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PACE 

The  Conduit,  near  Bayswater .  l.  257 

South-east  View  of  Stepney  Church 259 

Boar  in  Eastcheap 264 

The  View  of  London  Bridge  from  East  to  West  ....  271 

The  Pool 275 

Burghley  House 283 

I  If  or d  Alms  houses '.  .  .  287 

Old  Tavern 289 

Front  of  Sir  Paul  Finder's  House,  on  the  West  Side  of 

Bishopsgate  Street  Without 291 

The  Royal  Exchange,  Cornhill 295 

The  Steel  Yard,  etc.,  Thame's  Street,  after  the  Great  Fire  of 

1666 299 

Collegii  Greshamensis  a  Later e  Occidentali  Prospectus  A.D. 

1739 302 

Curious  Pump 305 

Newgate j>/j 

Sign  of  the  Three  Kings,  Bucklersbury 321 

The  Manner  of  Burning  Anne  Askew,  John  Lacels,  John 

Adams,  and  Nicolas  Belenian,  with  certane  of  ye  Coun- 

sell  sitting  in  Smithfield 326 

Old  Fountain  Inn  in  the  Minories.  Taken  down  in  1793  .  329 
South-west  View  of  an  Ancient  Structure  in  Ship  Yard, 

Temple  Bar 333 

Obsequies  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney 341 

Dr.  Shaw  preaching  at  St.  Paul's  Cross 347 

The  Old  Bull  and  Mouth  Inn,  St.  Martin  s-le-Grand.  Now 

pulled  down 353 

Globe  Theatre JJ7 

Inside  of  the  Red  Bull  Playhouse 359 

South  View  of  Falcon  Tavern,  on  the  Bank  Side,  Southwark, 

as  it  appeared  in  1805 363 

Palace  of  Whitehall  in  the  Reign  of  James  II. 373 

Hunger  ford  Market 380 

Cheapside 382 

Fleet  Street 3$5 

Below  Bridge 389 

Old  East  India  House 396 


ILLUSTRATIONS  XV 

PAGE 

Sion  College 398 

John  Buny  an's  Meeting-house  in  Zoar  Street 401 

Old  Grocers  Hall,  used  for  Bank  of  England      .     .     .     .     .  403 

London  after  the  Fire 405 

Old  St.  Paul's,  with  the  Porch  of  Inigo  Jones 411 

Houses  in  St.  ^Catherine's.    Pulled  down  in  1827     ....  432 

Lud  Gate 435 

Davenanfs  School 439 

Sign 444 

St.  Dunstan's  in  the  West 445 

Approach  to  London  Bridge 447 

Above  Bridge 452 

St.  James's  Palace — March  of  the  Guards 456 

Ranelagh 459 

North  View  of  the  Marshalsea,  Southwark 461 

Charing  Cross 463 

A  Dish  of  Tea 469 

Visiting  Card 478 

Vauxhall > 481 

Sir  John  Fielding's  Court,  Bow  Street 487 

Interior  of  St.  Stephen,  Walbrook 491 

Concert  Ticket 493 


LONDON 


AFTER   THE   ROMANS 

THE  only  real  authorities  for  the  events  which 
took  place  in  Britain  during  the  fifth  and  sixth 
centuries  are  Gildas  and  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle. 
There  are  other  writers — Ethelwerd,  for  instance,  who 
copied  the  Chronicle,  and  adds  nothing  ;  and  Nennius, 
whose  work,  edited  by  one  Mark  the  Hermit  in  the 
tenth  century,  was  found  in  the  Vatican.  The  first 
edition  was  published  in  London  in  the  year  1819,  in 
the  original  Latin,  by  the  Rev.  William  Gunn.  Nen- 
nius gives  a  brief  account  of  King  Arthur  and  his  ex- 
ploits, but  he  affords  little  or  no  information  that  is 
of  use  to  us.  The  work  of  Richard  of  Cirencester  is 
extremely  valuable  on  account  of  its  topography ;  it 
is  also  interesting  as  the  work  of  the  first  English  an- 
tiquary. But  he  belonged  to  the  fourteenth  century, 
and  has  added  nothing  to  the  history,  of  which  he 
knew  no  more — less,  indeed — than  we  ourselves  can 
discover.  The  book  named  after  Geoffrey  of  Mon- 
mouth  is  not  worth  a  moment's  serious  considera- 
tion. In  Bede's  Ecclesiastical  History  passages  may 
be  found  which  throw  side  lights  on  this  period,  but 
they  are  few. 


LONDON 


Gildas,  called  Badonicus,  is  supposed  to  have  been 
born  in  or  about  the  year  520,  in  Wales.  A  great  mass 
of  legend  has  collected  about  the  name  of  Gildas.  He 

was  the  son  of  a  British 
kinglet;  his  three -and- 
twenty  brothers  fought 
under  King  Arthur.  He 
himself  preached,  taught, 
and  in  the  matter  of  mir- 
acles was  greatly  blessed. 
He  wrote  —  if  he  did 
write  —  about  the  year 
560,  and  is  therefore  con- 
temporary with  the 
events  of  which  he 
speaks.  His  book  con- 
tains a  vast  quantity  of 
rhetoric  to  a  very  small 
amount  of  history.  Un- 
fortunately for  him,  he 
was  called  by  his  admir- 
ing fellow-monks,  in  his 
lifetime,  Sapiens  —  the 
Wise.  Perhaps,  in  order 
to  live  up  to  this  desig- 
nation, he  was  fain  to  as- 
sume the  garb  and  lan- 
guage of  a  prophet,  and, 

with  what  he  thought  prophetic  force,  which  we 
now  perceive  to  be  ecclesiastical  inflation,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  admonish  princes  and  people  of  their  sins. 
Every  age,  to  the  ecclesiastical  prophet  as  to  the  sec- 
ular satirist,  is  an  age  of  unbounded  profligacy;  of 


STOWE'S    MONUMENT,    IN    NORTH    AISLE    OF 
ST.   ANDREW    UNDERSHAFT 


AFTER    THE   ROMANS  3 

vice  such  as  the  world  has  never  before  witnessed ;  of 
luxury  advanced  to  heights  hitherto  untrodden  ;  of 
license,  wantonness,  riot  unbridled  and  unparalleled, 
insomuch  that  the  city  of  Jerusalem,  even  when  under 
the  soft  influences  of  Ahola  and  Aholibah,  were  really 
righteous  and  pure  in  comparison.  No  doubt  Gildas 
lived  in  a  most  trying  and  most  disappointing  time. 
Things  went  wrong,  and  things  went  steadily  from . 
bad  to  worse.  His  people  were  defeated  and  driven 
continually  westward;  they  could  not  even  hold  to- 
gether and  fight  side  by  side  against  the  common 
enemy;  religion  was  forgotten  in  the  fierce  struggles 
for  life,  and  in  the  fiercer  civil  dissensions.  As  for 
the  enemy,  Saxon,  Angle,  or  Jute,  all  were  alike,  in 
that  none  had  the  least  reverence  for  priest  or  for 
Church ;  everywhere  fighting,  defeat,  and  massacre. 
Yet  one  cannot  but  think  that  a  lower  note  might 
have  been  struck  with  greater  advantage ;  and  now 
that  it  is  impossible  to  learn  how  far  the  prophet's  ad- 
monitions brought  repentance  to  his  kings,  one  regrets 
that  a  simple  statement  of  the  events  in  chronological 
order  as  they  occurred  was  not  thought  useful  or  de- 
sirable in  a  historical  work.  Would  you  hear  how 
the  Sapient  addresses  kings  ?  Listen.  He  is  admon- 
ishing for  his  good  the  King  of  North  Wales — Cune- 
glass  by  name : 

"  Thou,  too,  Cuneglass,  why  art  thou  fallen  into  the 
filth  of  thy  former  naughtiness?  Yea,  since  the  first 
spring  of  thy  tender  youth,  thou  Bear,  thou  Rider  and 
Ruler  of  many  and  Guider  of  the  chariot  which  is  the 
receptacle  of  the  Bear,  thou  Contemner  of  God  and 
Vilifier  of  his  order !  Thou  tawny  Butcher  !  Why, 
besides  thine  other  innumerable  backslidings,  having 


4  LONDON 

thrown  out  of  doors  thy  wife,  dost  thou,  against  the 
apostle's  express  prohibition,  esteem  her  detestable 
sister,  who  has  vowed  unto  God  everlasting  conti- 
nency,  as  the  very  flower  of  the  celestial  nymphs?" 

In  similar  gentle  strains  he  approaches,  and  deli- 
cately touches  upon,  the  sins  of  other  kings. 

This  kind  of  language  is  difficult  to  sustain,  and 
sometimes  leads  to  contradictions.  Thus,  in  one  sen- 
tence, the  Sapient  speaks  of  his  countrymen  as  wholly 


ROMAN    MARBLE   SARCOPHAGUS  (Guildhall) 

ignorant  of  the  art  of  war,  and  in  another  he  tells 
how  the  flower  of  the  British  youth  went  off  to  fight 
for  Maximus. 

As  regards  the  alleged  luxury  of  the  time,  this  poor 
monk  wrote  from  a  dismal  cell,  very  likely  of  wattle 
and  daub,  certainly  draughty  and  cold ;  his  food  was 
poor  and  scanty ;  his  bed  was  hard  ;  life  to  him  was  a 
long  endurance.  The  roasted  meats,  the  soft  pillows 
and  cushions,  the  heated  rooms  of  the  better  sort, 
seemed  to  him  detestable  and  wicked  luxury,  especial- 
ly when  he  thought  of  the  Saxons  and  Jutes  overrun- 
ning the  ruined  country.  Of  course,  in  every  age  the 
wealthy  will  surround  themselves  with  whatever  com- 
forts can  be^procured.  We  are  in  these  days,  for  in- 
stance, advanced  to  what  our  ancestors  would  have 


AFTER   THE    ROMANS  5 

called  an  inconceivable  height  of  luxury.  One  would 
like  to  invite  the  luxurious  Cuneglass  to  spend  a  day 
or  two  with  a  young  man  of  the  present  day.  Those 
who  were  neither  rich  nor  free  lived  hardly,  as  they 
do  to  this  day,  but  more  hardly ;  those  who  were 
young  and  strong,  even  though  they  were  not  perhaps 
trained  to  the  use  of  arms,  easily  learned  how  to  use 
them,  and  when  it  came  to  victory  or  death,  they  soon 
recovered  the  old  British  spirit.  This  is  not  the  place, 
otherwise  it  would  be  interesting  to  show  what  a  long 
and  gallant  stand  was  made  by  these  people  whom  it 
is  customary  to  call  cowardly  and  luxurious  —  these 
ancestors  of  the  gallant  Welsh.1  It  is  manifest  that 
a  period  of  two  hundred  years  and  more  of  peace, 
almost  profound,  their  frontiers  and  their  coasts  guard- 
ed for  them  by  the  legions  of  Rome,  must  have  low- 
ered the  British  spirit.  But  the  people  quickly  recov- 
ered it.  The  Arthurian  epic,  it  is  certain,  has  plenty 
of  foundation  in  fact,  and  perhaps  poor  King  Cune- 
glass .himself,  the  Bear  and  Butcher,  wielded  a  valiant 
sword  in  spite  of  his  family  troubles.  The  Britons 
were,  it  is  quite  certain,  prone  to  internal  dissensions, 
which  greatly  assisted  their  defeat  and  conquest.  But 
they  had  one  bond  of  union.  Their  enemies  were  pa- 
gan ;  they  were  Christian.  Gildas  addresses  a  nation 
of  Christians,  not  a  church  planted  among  idolaters. 
Christian  symbols  and  emblems  have  been  found  ev- 
erywhere on  the  site  of  Roman  towns,  not,  it  is  true, 
in  large  quantities,  but  they  are  found  ;  while,  though 
altars  have  also  been  found,  and  pagan  emblems  and 


1  See  The  Two  Lost  Centuries  of  Britain,  by  W.  H.  Babcock.     Lip- 
incott,  Philadelphia,  1890  ;  an  excellent  little  work  on  this  subiect. 


6  •  LONDON 

statuettes  of  gods,  there  are  no  ruins  anywhere  in 
Britain,  except  at  Bath,  of  Roman  temples.  Their 
faith,  like  the  Catholicism  of  the  Irish,  was  their  na- 
tional symbol.  It  separated  them  broadly  from  their 
enemies ;  it  gave  them  contempt  for  barbarians.  The 
faith  therefore  flourished  with  great  strength  and 
vigor.  But  the  popular  Christianity  seems  to  have 
been  in  Britannia,  as  everywhere,  a  very  mixed  kind 


STATUBS   OF   MERCURY,  APOLLO,  AND  JUPITER    OR    NEPTUNE, 
FOUND   IN    THE   THAMES,   1837 

of  creed.  As  in  Southern  Italy  among  the  peasants 
there  linger  to  this  day  traditions,  customs,  and  super- 
stitions of  paganism  which  the  people  call  the  Old 


AFTER   THE   ROMANS  7 

Faith,  so  in  Britain  there  lingered  among  the  people 
ceremonies  and  beliefs  which  the  Church  vainly  tried 
to  suppress,  or  craftily  changed  into  Christian  observ- 
ances. Such  things  linger  still  in  Wales,  though  the 
traveller  regards  them  not.  In  the  same  way  the 
folk-lore  of  our  own  time  in  our  own  villages  is  still 
largely  composed  of  the  beliefs  and  superstitions  in- 
herited from  our  old  English — not  British — ancestors. 
What  happens  is  always  the  same,  and  must  be  the 
same.  In  times  of  religious  revolution  the  common 
folk  change  the  name  of  their  God,  but  not  his  nature 
or  his  attributes.  Apollo  becomes  the  Christ,  but  in 
the  minds  of  the  Italian  peasants  he  remains  the  old 
Apollo.  The  great  Sun -God,  worshipped  under  so 
many  names  and  with  so  many  attributes,  remains  in 
the  hearts  of  rustics  long,  long  centuries  after  mass 
has  been  said  and  the  Host  has  been  elevated.  Nay, 
it  has  even  been  said  that  the  mass  itself  is  an  adapta- 
tion of  pagan  ritual  to  Christian  worship.  But  the 
people,  whatever  their  old  beliefs,  called  themselves 
Christian,  and  that  one  fact  enabled  them  to  forget 
their  jealousies  and  quarrels  in  times  of  emergency, 
and  sometimes  to  act  together.  They  were  Christian  ; 
their  enemies  were  pagan.  It  is  significant  that  in 
one  passage  Gildas — who  is  quoted  by  Bede  —  re- 
proaches them  for  not  converting  their  conquerors, 
among  whom  they  lived.  This  proves,  if  the  fact 
wanted  proof,  (i)  that  the  Britons  were  not  extermi- 
nated by  their  conquerors  ;  (2)  that  they  were  allowed 
to  continue  unmolested  in  their  own  religion ;  and  (3) 
that  they  kept  it  to  themselves  as  a  possession  of  their 
own,  a  consolation  in  disaster,  and  a  mark  of  supe- 
riority and  dignity. 


s 


LONDON 


One  thing  is  quite  clear,  that  when  the  Roman  le- 
gions finally  withdrew,  the  Britons  were  left  thorough- 
ly awakened  to  the  fact  that  if  they  could  not  fight 
they  must  perish  They  understood  once  more  the 
great  law  of  humanity  in  all  ages,  that  those  who 
would  enjoy  in  peace  must  be  prepared  to  fight  in 
war.  They  fought,  therefore,  valiantly;  yet  not  so 
valiantly  as  the  stronger  race  which  came  to  drive 
them  out. 


f 


BRONZE    ARTICLES    FOR    DOMESTIC   USE 


In  particular,  however,  we  have  to  deal  with  the 
fate  of  London,  which  was  then  Augusta.  Let  us 
first  endeavor  to  lay  down  the  facts.  They  are  to  be 
drawn  from  two  sources:  the  first  from  the  meagre 
notes  of  the  historians,  the  second  from  certain  topo- 
graphical and  geographical  considerations.  The  latter 
have  never  yet  been  fully  presented,  and  I  believe  ^hat 
the  conclusion  to  be  drawn  by  comparing  the  double 
set  of  facts  will  be  accepted  as  irresistible. 

The  following  are  the  facts  related  by  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  Chronicle : 


AFTER   THE    ROMANS  9 

A.D.  443. — This  year  the  Britons  sent  over  the  sea  to  Rome, 
and  begged  for  help  against  the  Picts ;  but  they  had  none,  be- 
cause they  were  themselves  warring  against  Attila,  King  of  the 
.Huns.  And  then  they  sent  to  the  Angles,  and  entreated  the 
like  of  the  Ethelings  of  the  Angles. 

A.D.  449. — Hengist  and  Horsa,  invited  by  Vortigern,  King 
of  the  Britons,  landed  in  Britain  on  the  shore  called  Wippids- 
fleet  (Ebbsfleet?),  at  first  in  aid  of  the  Britons,  but  afterwards 
they  fought  against  them.  King  Vortigern  gave  them  land  in 
the  south-east  of  this  county  on  condition  that  they  should 
fight  against  the  Picts.  They  then  fought  against  the  Picts, 
and  had  the  victory  wheresoever  they  came.  Then  they 
sent  to  the  Angles,  desired  a  larger  force  to  be  sent,  and 
caused  them  to  be  told  the  worthlessness  of  the  Britons  and 
the  excellence  of  the  land.  Then  they  soon  sent  thither  a 
larger  force  in  aid  of  the  others.  At  that  time  came  men 
from  three  tribes  in  Germany  —  from  the  Old  Saxons,  from 
the  Angles,  and  from  the  Jutes.  From  the  Jutes  came  the 
Kentish  men  and  the  Wightwarians  —  that  is,  the  tribe  which 
now  dwells  in  Wight,  and  that  race  among  the,  West  Saxons 
which  is  still  called  the  race  of  Jutes.  From  the  Old  Saxons 
came  the  men  of  Essex,  Sussex,  and  Wessex.  From  Anglia, 
which  has  ever  since  remained  waste,  betwixt  the  Jutes  and 
Saxons,  came  the  men  of  East  Anglia,  Middle  Anglia,  Mercia, 
and  of  Northumbria. 

A.D.  455. — This  year  Hengist  and  Horsa  fought  against  King 
Vortigern  at  the  place  called  .^gelsthrop  (Aylesford),  and  his 
brother  Horsa  was  slain,  and  after  that  Hengist  obtained  the 
kingdom,  and  ^Esc.his  son. 

A.D.  456. — This  year  Hengist  and  JEsc  slew  four  troops  of 
Britons  with  the  edge  of  the  sword  in  the  place  which  is 
named  Crecganford  (Crayford). 

A.D.  457.  —  This  year  Hengist  and  JEsc,  his  son,  fought 
against  the  Britons  at  a  place  called  Crecganford,  and  then  slew 
4000  men.  And  the  Britons  then  forsook  Kent,  and  in  great 
terror  fled  to  London. 

A.D.  465. — This  year  Hengist  and  ^Esc  fought  against  the 
Welsh  near  Wippidsfleet  (Ebbsfleet),  and  there  slew  twelve 


IO  LONDON 

"Welsh  ealdormen,  and  one  of  their  own  Thanes  was  slain  there 
whose  name  was  Wippid. 

A.D.  473. — This  year  Hengist  and  ^Esc  fought  against  the 
Welsh,  and  took  spoils  innumerable  ;  and  the  Welsh  fled  from 
the  Angles  like  fire. 

A.D.  477. — This  year  JElla.  and  his  three  sons  came  to  the 
land  of  Britain  with  their  ships  at  a  place  called  Cymensrova, 
and  there  slew  many  Welsh,  and  some  they  drove  in  flight  into 
the  wood  that  is  named  Andredes-lea.  (Probably  the  landing 
was  on  the  coast  of  Sussex.) 

A.D.  485. — This  year^Ella  fought  against  the  Welsh  near  the 
Bank  of  Mearcriediburn. 

A.D.  491. — This  year-^lla  and  Cissa  besieged  Andredacester 
(Pevensey),  and  slew  all  that  dwelt  therein,  so  that  not  a  single 
Briton  was  left. 

A.D.  495. — This  year  two  ealdormen  came  to  Britain,  Cerdic, 
and  Cynric  his  son,  with  five  ships,  at  the  place  which  is  called 
Cerdicsore  (probably  Calshot  Castle  on  Southampton  water), 
and  Stuf  and  Whitgen  fought  against  the  Britons  and  put  them 
to  flight. 

A.D.  519. — This  year  Cerdic  and  Cynric  obtained  the  king- 
dom of  the  West  Saxons;  and  the  same  year  they  fought 
against  the  Britons  where  it  is  now  named  Cerdisford  (Char- 
ford  on  the  Avon  near  Fordingbridge). 

A.D.  527. — This  year  Cerdic  and  Cynric  fought  against  the 
Britons  at  the  place  called  Ardicslea. 

A.D.  530. — This  year  Cerdic  and  Cynric  conquered  the  Island 
of  Wight,  and  slew  many  men  at  Whit-garan-byrg  (Carisbrooke, 
Isle  of  Wight). 

A.D.  547. — This  year  Ida  began  to  reign,  from  whom  came 
the  royal  race  of  Northumberland. 

The  conquest  of  England  was  now  virtually  com- 
pleted. There  was  fighting  at  Old  Sarum  in  552;  at 
Banbury  in  556;  at  Bedford,  at  Aylesbury,  and  at 
Benson,  in  the  year  571.  One  would  judge  this  to  be 
a  last  sortie  made  by  the  Welsh  who  had  been  driven 


AFTER  THE   ROMANS 


II 


into  the  fens.  In  the  year  577  three  important  places 
in  the  west  are  taken — Gloucester,  Bath,  and  Cirences- 
ter.  In  584  there  was  fighting  at  Fethan-lea  (Freth- 
ern),  when  the  victor  took  many  towns  and  spoils  in- 
numerable; "and  wrathful  he  thence  returned  to  his 


BRONZE    FIBULA    AND   OTHER    ORNAMENTS:    FOUND   IN    LONDON 


own."  As  late  as  596  we  hear  that  the  king  of 
the  West  Saxons  fought,  and  contended  incessantly 
against  either  the  Angles  (his  own  cousins),  or  the 
Welsh,  or  the  Picts,  or  the  Scots ;  and  in  607  was 
fought  the  great  battle  of  Chester,  in  which  "  number- 
less "  Welsh  were  slain,  including  two  hundred  priests 
who  had  come  to  pray  for  victory. 

It  is  therefore  evident  that  the  conquest  of  the 
country  took  a  long  time  to  effect — not  less,  indeed, 
than  two  hundred  years.  First,  Kent,  with  Surrey, 
fell ;  next,  Sussex ;  both  before  the  end  of  the  fifth 
century.  Early  in  the  sixth  century  the  West  Saxons 


I2  LONDON 

conquered  the  country  covered  by  Hampshire,  a  part 
of  Surrey,  and  Dorsetshire  ;  next,  Essex  fell,  and  there 
was  stubborn  fighting  for  many  years  in  the  country 
about  and  beyond  the  great  Middlesex  forest.  The 
conquest  of  the  North  concerns  us  little,  save  that  it 
drew  off  some  of  those  who  were  fighting  in  what  af- 
terwards became  the  Kingdom  of  Mercia.  I  desire 
to  note  here  only  the  surroundings  of  London,  and  to 
mark  how,  by  successive  steps  of  the  invaders'  march, 
it  was  gradually  cut  off,  bit  by  bit,  from  the  surround- 
ing country.  Thus,  when  Kent  was  overrun,  the 
bridge  gate  was  closed',  the  roads  south,  south-west, 
and  south-east  were  blocked,  and  the  whole  of  that 
country  cut  off  from  London ;  at  the  fall  of  Essex, 
Norfolk,  and  Suffolk,  the  eastern  gate  was  closed,  and 
that  great  district  was  cut  off.  When  Wessex  was  an 

o 

established  kingdom,  the  river  highway  was  closed ; 
there  then  remained  only  the  western  gate,  and  that, 
during  the  whole  of  the  sixth  century,  led  out  into  a 
country  perpetually  desolated  and  destroyed  by  war, 
so  that,  by  the  middle  of  the  sixth  century,  no  more 
communication  whatever  was  possible  between  Lon- 
don and  the  rest  of  the  country,  unless  the  people 
made  a  sortie  and  cut  their  way  through  the  enemy. 

Observe,  however,  that  no  mention  whatever  is  made 
of  London  in  the  Chronicle.  Other  and  less  impor- 
tant towns  are  mentioned.  Anderida  or  Pevensey, 
Aquae  Solis  or  Bath,  Gloucester,  Chester,  and  many 
others ;  but  of  London  there  is  no  mention.  Consid- 
er: London,  though  not  much  greater  than  other 
cities  in  the  country  —  York,  Verulam,  Lincoln,  Col- 
chester, for  instance — was  undoubtedly  the  chief  port 
of  the  country.  We  must  not  bring  modern  ideas  to 


AFTER   THE   ROMANS  13 

bear  when  we  read  of  the  vast  trade,  the  immense 
concourse  of  merchants,  and  so  forth.  We  need  not 
picture  miles  of  docks  and  countless  masts.  Roman 
London  was  not  modern  Liverpool.  Its  bulk  of  trade 
was  perfectly  insignificant  compared  with  that  of  the 
present.  When  we  begin  to  consider  the  mediaeval 
trade  of  London  this  will  become  apparent.  Still,  it 
was,  up  to  the  coming  of  the  Saxons,  a  vigorous  and 
flourishing  place,  and  the  chief  port  of  the  country. 
Why,  therefore,  does  the  Chronicle  absolutely  pass 
over  so  great  an  event  as  the  taking  of  London  ? 

Such  is  the  evidence  of  history.  Let  us  consider 
next  the  evidence  of  topography.  We  shall  under- 
stand what  happened  in  London  when  we  understand 
the  exceptional  position  of  London  and  the  dangers 
to  which  the  city  in  time  of  civil  war  was  necessarily 
exposed. 

We  will  go  back  to  the  beginning  of  all  things — to 
the  lie  of  the  land  on  which  London  was  planted. 
The  reader,  if  he  will  consult  that  very  admirable 
book,  Loftie's  History  of  London,  will  find  in  it  a  most 
instructive  map.  It  shows  the  terrain  before  the  city 
was  built  at  all.  The  river  Thames,  between  Mort- 
lake  on  the  west  and  Blackwall  on  the  east,  pursued  a 
serpentine  way,  in  the  midst  of  marshes  stretching 
north  and  south.  There  were  marshes  all  the  way. 
At  spring  tides,  and  at  all  tides  a  little  above  the  com- 
mon, these  marshes  were  under  water ;  they  were  al- 
ways swampy  and  covered  with  ponds ;  half  a  dozen 
tributary  brooks  flowed  into  them  and  were  lost  in 
them.  They  varied  greatly  in  breadth,  being  gener- 
ally much  broader  on  the  south  side  than  on  the 
north.  On  this  side  the  higher  land  rose  up  abruptly 


LONDON 


in  a  cliff  or  steep  hill  from  twenty  to  five-and-thirty 
feet  in  height.  The  cliff,  as  we  follow  it  from  the 
east,  approached  the  river,  touched  it  at  one  point, 
and  then  receded  again  as  it  went  westward.  This 
point,  where  the  cliff  overhung  the  river,  was  the  only 
possible  place  where  the  city  could  have  been  founded. 
I  call  it  a  point,  but  it  consisted  of  two  hillocks, 
both  about  thirty-five  feet  high,  standing  on  either 
side  the  little  stream  of  Walbrook,  where  it  flows  into 
the  Thames.  On  one  of  these  hills,  probably  that  on 

the  west,  was  a  small 
fortress  of  the  Britons, 
constructed  after  the 
well-known  fashion  of 
hill  forts,  numberless 
examples  of  which  re- 
main scattered  about 
the  country.  On  the 
other  hillock  the  Ro- 
man city,  later  on,  was 
first  commenced. 
Here,  at  the  begin- 


ROMAN  PAVKMENT:   LHADENHALL  STREET 


of    the     city, 


instituted  very  early  a 

ferry  over  the  river.  On  the  eastern  hill  the  Romans 
built  their  forum  and  basilica,  with  the  offices  and 
official  houses  and  quarters.  When  foreign  trade 
began  to  increase,  the  merchants  were  obliged  to 
spread  themselves  along  the  bank.  They  built  quays 
and  river-walls  to  keep  out  the  water,  and  the  city 
extended  laterally  to  east  and  west,  just  as  far  as  was 
convenient  for  the  purposes  of  trade  —  that  is,  not  far- 
ther than  Fleet  River  on  the  west,  and  the  present 


AFTER    THE   ROMANS  15 

site  of  the  Tower  on  the  east.  It  then  began  to  spread 
northward,  but  very  slowly,  because  a  mile  of  river 
front  can  accommodate  a  great  working  population 
with  a  very  narrow  backing  of  houses.  When  the 
city  wall  was  built,  somewhere  about  the  year  360, 
the  town  had  already  run  out  in  villas  and  gardens  as 
far  north  as  that  wall.  Outside  the  wall  there  was 
nothing  at  all,  unless  one  may  count  a  few  scattered 
villas  on  the  south  side  *of  the  river.  There  was  as 
yet  no  Westminster,  but  in  its  place  a  broad  and 
marshy  heath  spread  over  the  whole  area  now  covered 
by  the  City  of  Westminster,  Millbank,  St.  James's 
Park,  Chelsea,  and  as  far  west  as  Fulham.  Beyond 
the  wall  on  the  north  lay  dreary,  uncultivated  plains, 
covered  with  fens  and  swamps,  stretching  from  the 
walls  to  the  lower  slopes  of  the  northern  hills,  and'to 
the  foot  of  an  immense  forest,  as  yet  wholly  untouch- 
ed, afterwards  called  the  Middlesex  Forest.  Frag- 
ments of  this  forest  yet  remain  at  Hampstead,  High- 
gate,  Epping,  and  Hainault.  All  through  this  period, 
therefore,  and  for  long  after,  the  City  of  London  had 
a  broad  marsh  lying  on  the  south,  another  on  the 
west,  a  third  on  the  east,  while  on  the  north  there 
stretched  a  barren,  swampy  moorland,  followed  by  an 
immense  impenetrable  forest.  Later  on  a  portion  of 
the  land  lying  on  the  north-west,  where  is  now  Hoi- 
born,  was  cleared  and  cultivated.  But  this  was  later, 
when  the  Roman  roads  which  led  out  of  London  ran 
high  and  broad  over  the  marshes  and  the  moors  and 
through  the  forest  primeval.  The  point  to  be  remem- 
bered as  connected  with  the  marshes  is  this :  Around 
most  great  towns  there  is  found  a  broad  belt  of  culti- 
vated ground  protected  by  the  wall  and  the  garrison. 


I 6  LONDON 

Here  the  people  grow  for  their  own  use  their  grain 
and  their  fruit,  and  pasture  their  beasts  and  their 
swine.  London,  alone  among  great  cities,  never  had 
any  such  home  farm  until  the  marsh  was  reclaimed. 
The  cattle,  which  were  driven  daily  along  the  roads 
into  the  city,  grazed  on  pastures  in  Essex  farms,  be- 
yond the  forest  and  the  River  Lea.  The  corn  which 
filled  her  markets  came  down  the  river  in  barges  from 
the  inland  country.  All  the  supplies  necessary  for 
the  daily  food  of  the  city  were  brought  in  from  the 
country  round.  Should  these  supplies  be  cut  off, 
London  would  be  starved. 

These  supplies  were  very  large  indeed.  As  said 
above,  we  may  set  aside  as  extravagant  the  talk  of  a 
vast  and  multitudinous  throng  of  people,  as  if  the 
place  was  already  a  kind  of  Liverpool.  Augusta 
never,  certainly,  approached  the  importance  of  Mas- 
silia,  of  Bordeaux,  of  Antioch,  of  Ephesus.  Nor  was 
Augusta  greater  than  other  English  towns.  The  walls 
of  York  enclose  as  large  an  area  as  those  of  Roman 
London.  The  wall  of  Uriconium  encloses  an  area 
nearly  equal  to  that  of  Roman  London.  The  area  of 
Calleva  (Silchester),  a  country  town  of  no  great  impor- 
tance, is  nearly  half  as  great  as  that  of  Roman  Lon- 
don. But  it  was  a  large  and  populous  city.  How 
populous  we  cannot  even  approximately  guess.  Con- 
sidering the  extent  of  the  wall,  if  that  affords  any 
help,  we  find,  counting  the  river  front,  that  the  wall 
was  two  miles  and  three-quarters  in  length.  This  is  a 
great  length  to  defend.  It  is,  however,  certain  that 
the  town  when  walled  must  have  contained  a  popula- 
tion strong  enough  to  defend  their  wall.  The  Ro- 
mans knew  how  to  build  in  accordance  with  their 


AFTER  THE   ROMANS 


wants  and  their  resources.  If  the  wall  was  built  three 
miles -long,  there  were  certainly  defenders  in  propor- 
tion. Now,  could  so 
great  a  length  be  in- 
trusted to  a  force  less 
than  20,000?  The  de- 
fenders of  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem,  which,  after 
the  taking  of  the  third 
wall,  were  very  much 
less  than  two  miles  in 
extent,  demanded  at 
least  25,000  men,  as  Ti- 
tus very  well  knew. 
Now,  if  every  able-bod- 
ied man  in  London 
under  the  age  of  five- 
and-fifty  were  called  out 
to  fight,  the  population, 
on  the  assumption  of 
20,000  suitable  men, 
would  be  about  70,000. 
If,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  London  citizens  af- 
ter the  departure  of  the 

Romans  could  man  their  walls  with  only  10,000  men, 
they  would  have  a  population  of  about  35,000.  Now, 
the  daily  needs  of  a  population  of  only  35,000  are  very 
considerable.  We  have,  it  is  true,  to  supply  food  for 
5,000,000,  but  the  brain  is  incapable  of  comprehending 
figures  and  estimates  of  such  vastness.  One  can  bet- 
ter understand  those  which  have  to,  do  with  a  popula- 
tion of  30,000  or  40,000.  So  much  bread,  so  much 


BRONZE   BUST  OF  THE  BMPKROR   HA- 
DRIAN :     FOUND    IN    THE    THAMES 

(British  Museum) 


18  LONDON 

meat,  so  much  wine,  beer,  and  fruit.  Where  did  all 
these  things  come  from  ?  Nothing,  as  I  have  said, .from 
the  immediate  neighborhood;  chiefly  from  Surrey  and 
from  Kent ;  a  great  deal  from  Essex ;  and  the  rest 
from  the  west  country  by  means  of  the  river. 

London,  therefore,  with  a  population  of  not  less 
than  35,000,  and  perhaps  upwards  of  70,000,  stood  in 
the  midst  of  marshes — marshes  everywhere — marshes 
all  around  except  in  the  north ;  and  there  impenetra- 
ble forest.  It  depended  wholly  for  its  supplies,  for 
its  daily  bread,  for  its  existence,  upon  the  country 
around. 

In  order  to  buy  these  supplies  it  depended  upon  its 
trade  of  import  and  export.  It  was  the  only  port  in 
the  kingdom ;  it  received  the  hides,  the  iron,  and  the 
slaves  from  inland  and  embarked  them  in  the  foreign 
keels ;  it  received  from  abroad  the  silks,  the  spices, 
the  wines,  the  ecclesiastical  vestments,  and  all  the  ar- 
ticles of  foreign  luxury,  and  sent  them  about  the 
country. 

But  this  important  place  changed  hands,  somehow, 
without  so  much  as  a  mention  from  the  contempo- 
rary records ;  and  while  places  like  Bath,  Gloucester, 
Cirencester,  are  recorded  as  being  besieged  and  tak- 
en, no  word  is  said  of  London,  a  place  of  far  greater 
importance. 

It  has  been  suggested  that  the  siege  of  London  was 
not  followed  by  a  massacre  as  at  Anderida,  and  that 
there  was  no  great  battle  as  at  Chester ;  but  that  the 
place  was  quietly  surrendered  and  the  lives  of  the 
people  spared.  This  is  a  thing  absolutely  impossible 
during  these  two  centuries.  The  English  invader  did 
not  make  war  in  such  a  manner.  If  he  attacked  a 


AFTER   THE   ROMANS  19 

town  and  took  it  by  assault  he  killed  everybody  who 
did  not  run  away.  That  was  his  method :  that  was 
how  he  understood  war.  If  he  pushed  out  his  invad- 
ing arms  he  killed  the  occupants  of  the  land,  unless, 
which  sometimes  happened,  they  killed  him,  or,  as 
more  often  happened,  they  ran  away.  But  of  making 
terms,  sparing  lives,  suffering  people  to  remain  in 
peaceful  occupation  of  their  houses  we  hear-  nothing, 
because  such  a  thing  never  happened  until  the  close 
of  the  war,  when  victory  was  certain  to  one  side  and 
resistance  was  impossible  to  the  other.  Mercy  was 
not  as  yet  in  the  nature  of  Angle,  Jute,  or  Saxon. 

Suppose,  however,  that  it  did  happen.  Suppose 
that  after  that  great  rout  of  Craysford  the  victorious 
army  had  pushed  forward  and  taken  the  city,  or  had 
accepted  surrender  in  this  peaceful  nineteenth-century 
fashion,  so  entirely  opposite  to  their  received  and 
customary  method,  what  would  have  happened  next  ? 

Well,  there  would  have  been  continuity  of  occupa- 
tion. Most  certainly  and  without  doubt  this  conti- 
nuity of  occupation  would  have  been  proved  by  many 
signs,  tokens,  and  survivals.  For  instance,  the  streets. 
The  old  streets  would  have  remained  in  their  former 
positions.  Had  they  been  burned  down  they  would 
have  been  rebuilt  as  before.  Nothing  is  more  con- 
servative and  more  slow  to  change  than  an  old  street. 
Where  it  is  first  laid  out  there  it  remains.  The  old 
lanes  which  formerly  ran  between  gardens  and  at  the 
back  of  houses,  are  still  the  narrow  streets  of  the  City. 
In  their  names  the  history  of  their  origin  remains. 
In  Garlickhithe,  Fyfoot  Lane,  Suffolk  Lane,  Tower 
Royal,  Size  Lane,  Old  Jewry,  the  Minories,  and  in  a 
hundred  other  names,  we  have  the  identical  mediae- 


20 


LONDON 


val  streets,  with  the  identical  names  given  to  them 
from  their  position  and  their  association.  And  this 
though  fire  after  fire  has  burned  them  down,  and  since 
one  fire  at  least  destroyed  most  of  them  at  a  single 
effort.  A  Roman  town  was  divided,  like  a  modern 
American  town,  into  square  blocks — insulce  (islands) 
they  were  called.  Where  are  the  insulce  of  London  ? 
There  is  not  in  the  whole  of  London  a  single  trace  of 
the  Roman  street,  if  we  except  that  little  bit  still 
called  after  the  name  given  by  the  Saxons  to  a  Ro- 
man road. 

Again,  continuity '  of  occupation  is  illustrated  by 
tradition.  It  is  impossible  for  the  traditions  of  the 
past  to  die  out  if  the  people  continue.  Nay,  if  the 


A    BIT   OF   ROMAN    WALL 

(From  a  photograph  by  H^.  H.  Grove,  174  Brompton  Road) 

conqueror  makes  slaves  of  the  former  lords,  and  if 
they  remain  in  their  servitude  for  many  generations, 
yet  the  traditions  will  not  die.  There  are  traditions 


AFTER   THE   ROMANS  21 

of  these  ancient  times  among  the  Welsh,  but  among 
the  Londoners  there  are  none.  The  Romans  —  the 
Roman  power — the  ferocity  of  Boadicea,  the  victori- 
ous march  of  Theodosius,  the  conversion  of  the  coun- 
try, the  now  forgotten  saints  and  martyrs  of  London 
— these  would  have  been  remembered  had  there  been 
continuity  of  occupation.  But  not  a  single  trace  re- 
mains. 

Or,  again,  continuity  of  tenure  is  proved  by  the  sur- 
vival of  customs.  What  Roman  customs  were  ever 
observed  in  London  ?  There  is  not  a  trace  of  any. 
Consider,  however,  the  customs  which  still  linger 
among  the  Tuscan,  the  Calabrian,  and  the  Sicilian 
peasants.  They  are  of  ancient  origin ;  they  belong 
to  the  Roman  time  and  earlier.  But  in  London  there 
has  never  been  a  custom  or  an  observance  in  the  least 
degree  traceable  to  the  Roman  period. 

Lastly,  continuity  of  tenure  is  illustrated  by  the 
names  of  the  people.  Now,  a  careful  analysis  of  the 
names  found  in  the  records  of  the  fourteenth  century 
has  been  made  by  Riley  in  his  Memorials  of  London. 
We  need  not  consider  the  surnames,  which  are  all  de- 
rived from  occupation,  or  place  of  birth,  or  some  phys- 
ical peculiarity.  The  Christian  names  are  for  the 
most  part  of  Norman  origin ;  some  are  Saxon  ;  none 
are  Roman  or  British. 

It  has  been  advanced  by  some  that  the  municipal 
government  of  the  town  is  of  Roman  origin.  If  that 
were  so,  it  would  be  through  the  interference  of  the 
Church.  But  it  is  not  so.  I  believe  that  all  who 
have  considered  the  subject  have  now  acknowledged 
that  the  municipal  institutions  of  Lpndon  have  grown 
out  of  the  customs  of  the  English  conquerors. 


22  LONDON 

To  sum  up,  because  this  is  very  important.  When 
in  the  seventh  century  we  find  the  Saxons  in  the  pos- 
session of  the  city  there  is  no  mention  made  of  any 
siege,  attack,  capture,  or  surrender.  When,  a  Tittle 
later,  we  are  able  to  read  contemporary  history,  we 
find  not  a  single  custom  or  law  due  to  the  survival  of 
British  customs.  We  find  the  courses  of  the  old 
streets  entirely  changed,  the  very  memory  of  the 
streets  swept  away ;  not  a  single  site  left  of  any  an- 
cient building.  Everything  is  clean  gone.  Not  a 
voice,  not  a  legend,  not  a  story,  not  a  superstition  re- 
mains of  the  stately  Augusta.  It  is  entirely  vanished, 
leaving  nothing  behind  but  a  wall. 

Loftie's  opinion  is  thus  summed  up  (London,  vol.  i., 
P-  54): 

Roman  evidences,  rather  negative,  it  is  true,  than  positive  to 
show  that  the  East  Saxons  found  London  desolate,  with  broken 
walls,  and  a  scanty  population  if  any ;  that  they  entered  on 
possession  with  no  great  feeling  of  exultation,  after  no  great 
military  feat  deserving  mention  in  these  Chronicles ;  and  that 
they  retained  it  only  just  so  long  as  the  more  powerful  neigh- 
boring kings  allowed  them.  This  view  is  the  only  one  which 
occurs  to  me  to  account  for  the  few  facts  we  have. 

And  that  great  antiquary  Guest  thinks  that  good 
reasons  may  be  given  for  the  belief  that  London  for 
a  while  lay  desolate  and  uninhabited. 

The  evidence  seems  to  me  positive  rather  than 
negative,  and,  in  fact,  conclusive.  London,  I  am  con- 
vinced, must — not  may,  but  must — have  remained  for 
a  time  desolate  and  empty. 

The  evidence  is  before  us,  to  me  clear  and  unan- 
swerable; it  is  furnished  by  the  Chronicle  of  Con- 
quest, coupled  with  the  question  of  supplies.  The 


AFTER   THE   ROMANS  23 

city  could  receive  supplies  from  six  approaches.  One 
of  these,  called  afterwards  Watling  Street,  connected 
the  city  with  the  north  and  the  west.  It  entered  the 
walls  at  what  became,  later,  Newgate.  The  second 
and  third  entered  near  the  present  Bishopsgate.  One 
of  these,  Ermyn  Street,  led  to  the  north-east,  to  Nor- 
folk and  Suffolk,  the  great  peninsula,  with  fens  on  one 
side  and  the  ocean  on  two  other  sides  ;  the  other,  the 
Vicinal  way,  brought  provisions  and  merchandise  from 
Essex,  then  and  long  afterwards  thought 
to  be  the  garden  of  England.  The  bridge 
connected  the  city  with  the  south,  while 
the  river  itself  was  the  highway  between 
London  and  the  fertile  counties  on  either 
side  the  broad  valley  of  the  Thames.  By 
these  six  ways  there  were  brought  into 
the  city  every  day  a  continual  supply  of 


LAMPS    AND    LAMP-STAND 


all  the  necessaries  of  life  and  all  its  luxuries.  Along 
the  roads  plodded  the  pack-horses  and  the  heavy, 
grinding  carts ;  the  oxen  and  the  sheep  and  the  pigs 
were  driven  to  the  market ;  barges  floated  down  the 
stream  laden  with  flour,  and  with  butter,  cheese, 
poultry,  honey,  bacon,  beans,  and  lentils ;  and  up 
the  river  there  sailed  with  every  flood  the  ships 
coming  to  exchange  their  butts  of  wine,  their  bales 


24  LONDON 

of  silk,  their  boxes  of  spice,  for  iron,  skins,  and 
slaves. 

In  this  way  London  was  fed  and  its  people  kept 
alive.  In  this  way  London  has  always  been  fed. 
The  moorland  and  swamps  all  around  continued  far 
down  in  her  history.  Almost  in  the  memory  of  man 
there  were  standing  pools  at  Bankside,  Lambeth,  and 
Rotherhithe.  It  is  not  two  hundred  years  since 
Moorfields  were  drained.  Wild -fowl  were  shot  on 
the  low-lying  lands  of  Westminster  within  the  pres- 
ent century.  The  supplies  came  from  without.  They 
were  continuous.  It  'is  impossible  to  keep  in  store 
more  provisions — and  those  only  of  the  most  element- 
ary kind  —  than  will  last  for  a  short  period.  There 
may  have  been  a  city  granary,  but  if  the  supplies  were 
cut  off,  how  long  would  its  contents  continue  to  feed 
a  population,  say,  of  thirty-five  thousand  ? 

Four  points,  in  short,  must  be  clearly  understood  : 

(1)  London  was  a  port  with  a  great  trade,  export 
and  import.     To  carry  on  this  tratfe  she  employed  a 
very  large  number  of  men — slaves  or  free  men. 

(2)  If  she  lost  her  trade  her  merchants  were  ruined, 
and  her  people  lost  their  work  and  their  livelihood. 

(3)  The  lands  immediately  round  London — beneath 
her   walls  —  produced   nothing.      She  was   therefore 
wholly  dependent  on  supplies  from  without. 

(4)  If  these  supplies  failed,  she  was  starved. 

Now  you  have  seen  the  testimony  of  history.  The 
port  of  London  closed  by  the  ships  of  the  Kentish 
and  the  Essex  shores  ;  communications  with  the  coun- 
try gradually  cut  off ;  first,  with  the  south  ;  next,  with 
the  east ;  then,  by  the  river ;  lastly,  by  the  one  gate 
which  still  stood  open,  but  led  only  into  a  country 


AFTER   THE   ROMANS  25 

ravaged  by  continual  war,  and  overrun  by  an  enemy 
who  still  pushed  the  Britons  farther  west.  There  was 
no  longer  any  trade ;  that,  indeed,  began  to  languish 
in  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century;  there  were  no  lon- 
ger either  exports  or  imports.  When  there  were  no 
longer  any  supplies,  what  happened  ?  What  must 
have  happened  ? 

Let  me  consider  the  history  from  a  contemporary 
Londoner's  point  of  view.  The  Anglo-Saxon  Chroni- 
cle is  written  from  the  conqueror's  view ;  the  prophe- 
cies of  Gildas  take  the  ecclesiastical  line,  that  misfort- 
unes fall  upon  a  nation  because  of  their  wickedness, 
which  is  perfectly  true  if  their  wickedness  leads  them 
to  cowardly  surrender  or  flight,  but  not  otherwise,  or 
else  the  Saxons,  whose  wickedness,  if  you  come  to 
look  at  it,  was  really  amazing,  would  themselves  have 
been  routed  with  great  slaughter,  and  smitten  hip  and 
thigh.  There  are  sins  and  sins.  Those  which  do  not 
corrupt  a  nation's  valor  do  not  cause  a  nation's  fall. 

This  is  what  the  man  of  London  saw.  It  is  a  hith- 
erto unpublished  chapter  from  the  Chronicle  of  a  lay- 
man, a  British  citizen : 

"  The  Legions  left  us.  They  had  gone  away  be- 
fore, but  returned  at  our  solicitations  to  drive  back 
the  Picts  and  Scots  who  overran  the  land  (but  reached 
not  the  walls  of  London).  This  done,  they  went  away 
for  good.  And  now,  indeed,  we  understood  that  o.ur 
long  security  was  over,  and  that  we  must  arise  and 
defend  ourselves,  or  meet  with  the  fate  that  overtakes 
the  weak  and  cowardly.  They  put  up  for  us  a  wall 
before  they  went  away,  but  the  wall  availed  not  long. 
No  walls  are  of  any  avail  unless  there  be  valiant  de- 
fenders behind.  Then  the  enemy  once  more  overran 


26  LONDON 

the  country.  To  them  were  joined  pirates  from  Ire- 
land. Thus  the  land  of  Britain  seemed  given  over  to 
destruction,  especially  in  the  North  and  West.  The 
merchants  who  traded  with  these  parts  were  now 
driven  to  sore  straits,  because  no  goods  came  to  them 
from  their  friends,  nor  were  those  who  were  once 
wealthy  able  to  purchase  any  more  the  luxuries  which 
had  formerly  been  their  daily  food.  But  in  the  lands 
east  and  south,  and  that  part  of  the  country  lying 
east  of  the  fenny  country,  the  people  were  free  from 
alarms,  and  feared  nothing,  being  protected  by  the  sea 
on  one  hand  and  the  fens  on  the  other;  so  that  we 
in  London  looked  on  with  disquiet,  it  is  true,  but  not 
with  alarm.  Nay,  the  situation  looked  hopeful  when 
our  people,  recovering  their  spirit,  drove  out  the  ene- 
my, and  once  more  sat  down  to  cultivate  the  lands. 
For  a  few  years  there  was  peace,  with  plentiful  har- 
vests and  security.  Then  our  trade  again  revived, 
and  so  great  was  the  quantity  of  corn,  hides,  iron,  and 
tin  which  was  brought  to  our  ports  and  shipped  for 
foreign  countries  that  the  old  prosperity  of  Augusta 
seemed  destined  to  be  doubled  and  trebled.  Many 
merchants  there  were — wise  men  and  far-seeing — whp 
taught  that  we  should  take  advantage  of  this  respite 
from  the  greed  and  malice  of  our  enemies  to  imitate 
the  Romans,  and  form  legions  of  our  own,  adding  that 
the  island  wanted  nothing  but  security  to  become  a 
great  treasure-house  or  garden,  producing  all  manner 
of  fruit,  grain,  and  cattle  for  the  maintenance  and  en- 
richment of  the  people.  This  counsel,  however,  was 
neglected. 

"  Then  there  fell  upon  the  country  a  plague  which 
carried  off  an  immense  number.     The  priests  said  that 


AFTER  THE  ROMANS  2? 

the  plague,  as  well  as  the  Pict  and  the  Scot,  came 
upon  us  as  a  visitation  for  our  sins.  That  may  be, 
though  I  believe  our  chief  and  greatest  sin  was  that 
of  foolishness  in  not  providing  for  our  own  defence. 

"  Now  we  had  long  been  troubled,  even  when  the 
Count  of  the  Saxon  Shore  guarded  our  coasts,  by 
sudden  descents  of  pirates  upon  our  shores.  These 
devils,  who  had  fair  hair  and  blue  eyes,  and  were  of 
greater  stature  than  our  own  people,  carried  swords  a 
yard  long,  and  round  wooden  shields  faced  with 
leather.  Some  of  them  also  had  girdle  daggers  and 
long  spears.  They  were  extremely  valiant,  and,  rush- 
ing upon  their  foes  with  shouts,  generally  bore  them 
down  and  made  them  run.  They  seemed  to  know, 
being  guided  by  the  Evil  One,  what  places  were  least 
defended  and  therefore  most  open  to  attack.  Hith- 
er would  they  steer  their  keels,  and  landing,  would 
snatch  as  much  pillage  as  they  could,  and  so  sail  home 
with  loaded  vessels,  at  sight  of  which  their  brothers 
and  their  cousins  and  all  the  ravenous  crew  hungered 
to  join  in  the  sport. 

"  In  an  evil  moment,  truly,  for  Britannia,  our  King 
invited  these  people  to  help  in  driving  off  the  other 
enemies.  They  willingly  acceded.  So  the  lion  will- 
ingly accepts  the  protection  of  the  flock  and  drives 
off  the  wolves.  This  done,  he  devours  the  silly  sheep. 
Not  long  after  a  rumor  reached  the  Bridge  that  the 
Jutes  had  arrived  in  great  numbers  and  were  warring 
with  the  men  of  Cantia.  This  news  greatly  disquiet- 
ed the  City,  not  only  because  from  that  country, 
which  was  rich  and  populous,  great  quantities  of  food 
came  to  the  City,  with  grain  and  hides  for  export,  but 
also  because  the  fleets  on  their  way  passed  through 


28  LONDON 

the  narrow  waters  between  Ruim,  which  the  Jutes 
call  the  Isle  of  Thanet,  and  the  main -land,  on  their 
way  to  Rutupia::  and  thence  across  the  sea  to  Gallia. 
The  rumor  was  confirmed;  and  one  day  there  came 
into  the  City,  across  the  Bridge,  their  arms  having 
been  thrown  away,  the  defeated  army,  flying  from  the 
victorious  Jutes.  After  this  we  learned  every  day  of 
the  capture  and  destruction  of  our  rich  ships  in  the 
narrow  waters  above-named,  insomuch  that  we  were 
forced  to  abandon  this  route  and  to  attempt  the 
stormy  seas  beyond  the  cliffs  of  Ruim  ;  and  the  perils 
of  our  sailors  were  increased,  with  the  risk  of  our  mer- 
chants, insomuch  that  prayers  were  offered  in  all  the 
churches ;  and  those  who  divined  and  foretold  the 
future,  after  the  manner  of  the  old  times  before  the 
light  of  the  Gospel  shone  upon  us,  came  forth  again 
and  were  consulted  by  many,  especially  by  those  who 
had  ships  to  sail  or  expected  ships  to  arrive.  The 
priests  continually  reproached  us  with  our  sins  and 
exhorted  us  to  repentance,  whereof  nothing  came,  un- 
less it  were  the  safety  of  the  souls  of  those  who  re- 
pented. But  while  one  or  two  counselled  again  that 
we  should  imitate  the  Romans  and  form  legions  of 
our  own,  others  were  for  making  terms  with  the  en- 
emy, so  that  our  trade  might  continue  and  the  City 
should  grow  rich.  In  the  end  we  did  nothing.  We 
did  not  repent,  so  far  as  I  could  learn,  but  who  knows 
the  human  heart  ?  So  long  as  we  could  we  continued 
to  eat  and  drink  of  the  best,  and  we  formed  no  le- 
gions. 

"  Why  should  I  delay  ?  Still  the  invaders  flocked 
over.  Of  one  nation  all  came — men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren— leaving  a  desert  behind.  In  the  year  of  our 


AFTER  THE   ROMANS  29 

Lord  500,  the  whole  of  the  east  and  most  of  the  south 
country  were  in  the  hands  of  this  new  people.  Now 
this  strange  thing  has  been  observed  of  them.  They 
love  not  towns,  and  will  not  willingly  dwell  within 
walls  for  some  reason  connected  with  their  diabolical 
religion ;  or  perhaps  because  they  suspect  magic. 
Therefore,  when  they  conquered  the  country,  they 
occupied  the  lands  indeed,  and  built  thereon  their 
farm-houses,  but  they  left  the  towns  deserted.  When 
they  took  a  place  they  utterly  burned  and  destroyed 
it,  and  then  they  left  it,  so  that  at  this  day  there  are 
many  once  rich  and  flourishing  towns  which  now 
stand  desolate  and  deserted.  For  instance,  the  city 
and  stronghold  of  Rutupiae,  once  garrisoned  by  the 
Second  Legion ;  this  they  took  and  destroyed.  It  is 
reported  that  its  walls  still  stand,  but  it  is  quite  de- 
serted. So  also  Anderida,  where  they  massacred  ev- 
ery man,  woman,  and  child,  and  then  went  away,  leav- 
ing the  houses  in  ashes  and  the  dead  to  the  wolves; 
and  they  say  that  Anderida  still  stands  deserted.  So, 
also,  Calleva  Atrebatum,  which  they  also  destroyed, 
and  that,  too,  stands  desolate.  So,  too,  Durovernum, 
which  they  now  call  Cantwarabyrig.  This  they  de- 
stroyed, and  for  many  years  it  lay  desolate,  but  is 
now,  I  learn,  again  peopled.  So,  too,  alas !  the  great 
and  glorious  Augusta,  which  now  lies  empty,  a  city 
lone  and  widowed,  which  before  was  full  of  people. 

"When  Cantia  fell  to  the  Jutes  we  lost  our  trade 
with  that  fair  and  rich  province.  When  the  East 
Saxons  and  the  Angles  occupied  the  east  country,  and 
the  South  Saxons  the  south,  trade  was  lost  with  all 
this  region.  Then  the  gates  of  the  Vicinal  Way  and 
that  of  the  Bridge  were  closed.  Also  the  navigation 


30  LONDON 

of  the  Lower  Thames  became  full  of  danger.  And 
the  prosperity  of  Augusta  daily  declined.  Still  there 
stood  open  the  great  highway  which  led  to  the  middle 
of  Britannia  and  the  north,  and  the  river  afforded  a 
safe  way  for  barges  and  for  boats  from  the  west.  But 
the  time  came  when  these  avenues  were  closed.  For 
the  Saxons  stretched  out  envious  hands  from  their 
seaboard  settlements,  and  presently  the  whole  of  this 
rich  country,  where  yet  lived  so  many  great  and 
wealthy  families,  was  exposed  to  all  the  miseries  of 
war.  The  towns  were  destroyed,  the  farms  ruined, 
the  cattle  driven  away.  Where  was  now  the  wealth 
of  this  famous  province?  It  was  gone.  Where  was 
the  trade  of  Augusta?  That,  too,  was  gone.  Noth- 
ing was  brought  to  the  port  for  export ;  the  roads 
were  closed  ;  the  river  was  closed  ;  there  was  nothing, 
in  fact,  to  send ;  nay,  there  were  no  more  households 
to  buy  the  things  we  formerly  sent  them.  They  lived 
now  by  the  shore  and  in  the  recesses  of  the  forest, 
who  once  lived  in  great  villas,  lay  on  silken  pillows, 
and  drank  the  wine  of  Gaul  and  Spain. 

"  Then  we  of  the  City  saw  plainly  that  our  end  was 
come  ;  for  not  only  there  was  no  more  trade,  but  there 
was  no  more  food.  The  supplies  had  long  been  scanty, 
and  food  was  dear ;  therefore  those  who  could  no  lon- 
ger buy  food  left  the  town,  and  sallied  forth  westward, 
hoping  to  find  a  place  of  safety,  but  many  perished  of 
cold,  of  hunger,  and  by  sword  of  the  enemy.  Some 
who  reached  towns  yet  untaken  joined  the  warriors, 
and  received  alternate  defeat  and  victory,  yet  mostly 
the  former. 

"  Still  food  became  scarcer.  The  foreign  merchants 
by  this  time  had  all  gone  away ;  our  slaves  deserted 


AFTER   THE   ROMANS  3! 

us ;  the  wharves  stood  desolate ;  a  few  ships  without 
cargo  or  crew  lay  moored  beside  our  quays ;  our 
churches  were  empty ;  silence  reigned  in  the  streets. 
Now,  had  the  enemy  attacked  the  City  there  would 
have  been  no  resistance,  but  no  enemy  appeared.  We 
were  left  alone — perhaps  forgotten.  The  marshes  and 
moors  which  surround  the  City  on  all  sides  became 
our  protection.  Augusta,  to  the  invader,  was  invisi- 
ble. And  she  was  silent.  Her  enmity  could  do  no 
harm,  and  her  friendship  could  do  no  good.  She  was 
full  of  rich  and  precious  things ;  the  Basilica  and  the 
Forum,  with  the  columns  and  the  statues,  stood  in  the 
midst ;  the  houses  contained  pictures,  books,  baths, 
costly  hangings ;  yet  the  Saxon  wanted  none  of  these 
things.  The  City  contained  no  soldiers,  and  therefore 
he  passed  it  by,  or  even  forgot  its  existence. 

"  There  came  the  day  when  no  more  provisions 
were  left.  Then  those  who  were  left,  a  scanty  band, 
gathered  in  the  Basilica,  and  it  was  resolved  that  we 
should  leave  the  place,  since  we  could  no  longer  live 
in  it.  Some  proposed  to  try  escape  by  sea,  some  by 
land.  I,  with  my  wife  and  children,  and  others  who 
agreed  to  accompany  me,  took  what  we  could  of  food 
and  of  weapons,  leaving  behind  us  the  houses  where 
our  lives  had  been  so  soft  and  happy,  and  went  out 
by  the  western  gate,  and  taking  refuge  where  we  could 
in  the  forest,  we  began  our  escape.  Mostly  we  trav- 
elled by  night ;  we  passed  burning  towns  and  flaming 
farmsteads ;  we  encountered  hapless  fugitives  more 
naked  and  miserable  than  ourselves.  But  finally  we 
arrived  in  safety  at  the  town  of  Glevum,  where  we 
have  found,  shelter  and  repose. 

"  Every  year  ou-r  people  are  driven  westward  more 


LONDON 


and  more.  There  seems  no  frontier  that  will  stop 
them.  My  sons  have  fallen  in  battle ;  my  daughters 
have  lost  their  husbands;  my  grandchildren  are  taught 


SEPULCHRAL  CISTS,  ETC.  :     FOUND   IN   WARWICK    SQUARE, 

NBWGATB  STREET,  i88i  (British  Museum) 


to  look  for  nothing  but  continual  war.  Should  they 
succeed  in  reaching  our  City,  the  old  will  perish ;  but 
the  young  may  take  flight  across  the  river  Sabrina, 
and  even  among  the  mountains  of  the  West — their 
last  place  of  flight.  Should  they  be  driven  from  the 
hills,  it  will  be  into  the  sea.  And  of  Augusta  have  I 
learned  nothing  for  many  years.  Wherefore  am  I  sure 
that  it  remains  desolate  and  deserted  to  this  day." 

The  writer  of  this  journal,  most  valuable  and  inter- 
esting—  even  unique  —  was  not  quite  right.  Not  all 
the  inhabitants  of  Augusta  went  away.  In  the  city  a 
remnant  was  left — there  is  always  a  remnant.  Some 
of  them  were  slaves.  All  of  them  were  of  the  baser 
sort,  whose  safety,  when  cities  are  taken  by  assault 
and  massacres  are  abroad,  lies  in  their  abject  poverty 
and  in  the  dens  wherein  they  crouch.  These  remain- 
ed ;  there  were  not  many  of  them,  because  hunger 
,had  already  driven  away  most.  When  the  rest  were 
gone  they  came  out  of  their  holes  and  looked  about 


AFTER   THE   ROMANS  33 

them,  irresolute.  Seeing  no  enemy,  they  hastily  shut 
and  barred  the  city  gates  and  sat  down  fearful.  But 
days  passed,  and  no  attack  was  made  upon  them. 
Then  they  began  to  take  courage,  and  they  presently 
bethought  them  that  the  whole  town  was  their  own 
to  plunder  and  to  pillage.  They  began,  therefore, 
with  great  joy  to  collect  together  the  things  which 
the  people  had  been  unable  to  carry  with  them — the 
sacred  vessels  from  the  churches  and  the  rich  embroid- 
ered robes  of  silk  worn  by  the  priests.  They  found 
soft  stuffs  in  the  villas,  with  which  they  wrapped  them- 
selves ;  they  found  curtains,  rich  hangings,  pillows, 
cushions,  carpets — all  of  which  they  took.  The  carved 
work  and  statues,  books,  pictures,  and  things  which 
they  understood  not  they  broke  in  pieces  or  burned. 
They  carried  off  their  plunder  to  the  houses  on  the 
river-side — the  quarter  which  they  chose  as  handy  to 
their  boats  in  case  of  an  alarm  and  convenient  for  fish- 
ing—  on  which  they  now  placed  their  chief  reliance 
for  food.  When  they  found  that  no  one  molested 
them  they  ventured  out  into  the  Northern  forest, 
where  they  trapped  the  deer  and  the  boar.  Their 
thin  veneer  of  civilization  was  speedily  lost :  when 
they  had  used  up  all  the  fine  clothes,  when  they  had 
burned  up  all  the  wood-work  in  the  place,  when  the 
roofs  of  their  houses  fell  in,  they  went  back  to  quite 
the  ancient  manner ;  they  made  a  circular  hut  with  a 
fire  in  the  middle  of  it,  around  which  they  crouched. 
They  had  no  more  blankets  and  woollen  cloaks,  but 
they  did  very  well  with  a  wild  beast's  skin  for  dress. 
Their  religion  slipped  away  and  was  forgotten ;  in- 
deed, that  was  the  first  thing  to  go.  But,  which  was 
strange,  they  had  not  even  kept  the  remembrance  of 
3 


34 


LONDON 


their  ancestors'  worship.  If  they  had  any  religion  at 
all,  it  was  marked  by  cruel  sacrifices  to  a  malignant 
unseen  being. 

By  this  time  nothing  remained  of  the  old  houses 
but  their  walls,  and  these,  disintegrated  by  frost  and 
rain,  were  mostly  ready  to  fall ;  the  gardens  of  the 
villas,  the  beautiful  gardens  in  which  their  owners 
took  so  much  delight,  were  choked  and  overgrown 
with  nettles  and  brambles;  the  mosaic  pavements 
were  covered  up  with  rubbish  and  mould. 

How  long  did  this  go  on  ?  For  fifty  years  or  more. 
The  rude  survivors  of  Augusta  and  their  children 
lived  neglected  and  forgotten,  like  the  Arabs  in  the 
ruins  of  Palmyra.  Outside  they  knew  that  a  fierce 


ROMAN  KEYS  (Guildhall) 


enemy  roamed  the  country  ;  sometimes  they  could  see 
a  band  of  them  on  the  southern  bank  gazing  curious- 
ly at  the  silent  and  deserted  walls  of  the  City.  But 
these  warriors  cared  nothing  for  cities,  and  shuddered, 


AFTER    THE    ROMANS  35 

suspecting  magic  at  the  sight  of  the  gray  wall,  and 
went  away  again. 

One  day,  however,  because  nothing  remains  always 
undiscovered,  there  came  along  the  great  Vicinal  Way 
so  tough  and  strong,  on  which  the  tooth  of  Time 
gnawed  in  vain,  a  troop  of  East  Saxons.  They  were 
an  offshoot,  a  late  arrival,  a  small  colony  looking 
about  if  haply  they  could  find  or  conquer  a  conven- 
ient place  of  settlement  not  yet  held  by  their  own 
people.  They  marched  along  the  road,  and  presently 
saw  before  them  the  gray  walls  of  the  City,  with  its 
gates  and  bastions.  It  was  a  city  of  which  they  had 
heard — once  full  of  people,  now,  like  so  many  others, 
a  waste  Chester.  It  was  of  no  use  to  them  ;  they 
wanted  a  place  convenient  for  farming,  not  a  place 
encumbered  with  ruins  of  houses;  a  place  where  they 
could  set  up  their  village  community  and  grow  their 
crops  and  keep  their  cattle.  The  first  rush  and  fury 
of  battle  were  now  over.  The  East  Saxons  were  at 
peace,  the  enemy  being  either  driven  away  or  killed. 
A  single  generation  of  comfort  and  prosperity  had 
made  the  people  milder  in  temper.  They  desired  no 
longer  to  fight  and  slay.  What,  however,  if  they  were 
to  visit  the  City  ? 

The  gate  was  closed.  They  blew  their  horns  and 
called  upon  the  people,  if  there  were  any,  to  surrender. 
There  was  no  answer.  No  arrow  was  shot  from  the 
walls,  not  a  stone  was  thrown,  not  a  head  was 'seen 
upon  the  bastion.  Then  they  plied  their  axes  upon 
the  crumbling  wood  until  the  gate  gave  way  and  fell 
backward  with  a  crash.  Shouting,  the  men  of  Essex 
ran  forward.  But  they  soon  ceased  to  shout.  With- 
in they  found  a  deserted  city ;  the  walls  of  what  had 


36  LONDON 

been  stately  villas  stood  in  broad  gardens,  but  the 
houses  were  roofless,  the  pictured  pavements  were 
broken  or  covered  up,  the  fountains  were  choked,  the 
walls  were  tottering.  The  astonished  warriors  pressed 
forward.  The  ruined  villas  gave  way  to  crumbling 
remains  of  smaller  houses  standing  close  together. 
The  streets  showed  signs  of  traffic  in  deep  ruts  worn 
by  the  cart-wheels.  Grass  grew  between  the  stones. 
Here  and  there  stood  buildings  larger  than  the  houses; 


TOILET   ARTICLES— HAIR-PINS!    HAIR-PIN  (SARINA,  WIFE  OF    HADRIAN'); 
BONE   COMB   AND   CASE   (CLOAKHAM);     BONE    COMB  (LOWER    THAMES    STREET) 


they,  too,  were  roofless,  but  over  the  lintels  were 
carved  certain  curious  emblems  —  crosses  and  palm- 
branches,  lambs,  vine  leaves,  and  even  fish — the  mean- 
ing of  which  they  understood  not.  Then  the  men 
reached  the  river-side.  Here  there  had  also  been  a 
wall,  but  much  of  it  was  broken  down ;  and  here  they 
found  certain  circular  huts  thatched.  Within,  the  fire 
was  still  burning  in  the  middle  of  the  hut.  There 


AFTER   THE   ROMANS  37 

were  signs  of  hurried  departure — the  fish  was  still  in 
the  frying-pan,  the  bed  of  dried  leaves  still  warm. 
Where  were  the  people? 

They  were  gone.  They  had  fled  in  affright.  When 
they  heard  the  shouts  of  the  Saxons,  they  gathered 
together  their  weapons  and  such  things  as  they  could 
carry,  and  they  fled.  They  passed  out  by  the  gate  of 
that  road  which  their  conquerors  afterwards  called 
Watling  Street.  Outside  the  City  they  turned  north- 
ward, and  plunged  for  safety  into  the  pathless  forest, 
whither  the  enemy  would  not  follow. 

When  these  Saxons  found  that  the  walled  area  con- 
tained nothing  that  was  of  the  least  use  to  them  they 
simply  went  away.  They'left  it  quite  alone,  as  they 
left  the  places  which  they  called  Pevensey,  Silchester, 
Porchester,  and  Richborough,  and  as  they  left  many 
other  waste  chesters. 

Then  Augusta  lay  silent  and  dead  for  a  space. 

Presently  the  fugitives  crept  back  and  resumed  their 
old  life  among  the  ruins  and  died  peacefully,  and  were 
followed  by  their  children. 

How,  then,  did  London  get  settled  again? 

The  times  became  peaceful :  the  tide  of  warfare 
rolled  westward ;  there  were  no  more  ships  crossing 
with  fresh  invaders ;  there  were  no  more  pirates  hov- 
ering about  the  broad  reaches  of  the  Lower  Thames. 
The  country  round  London  on  all  sides — north,  south, 
east,  and  west — was  settled  and  in  tranquillity.  The 
river  was  safe.  Then  a  few  merchants,  finding  that 
the  way  was  open,  timidly  ventured  up  the  river  with 
wares  such  as  might  tempt  those  fair-haired  savages. 
They  went  to  the  port  of  which  the  memory  survived. 
No  one  disputed  with  them  the  possession  of  the 


38  LONDON 

grass-grown  quays ;  there  were  no  people,  there  was 
no  market,  there  were  no  buyers.  They  then  sent 
messengers  to  the  nearest  settlements;  these  —  the 
first  commercial  travellers,  the  first  gentlemen  of  the 
road — showed  spear-heads  of  the  finest,  swords  of  the 
stoutest,  beautiful  helmets  and  fine  shields,  all  to  be 
had  in  exchange  for  wool  and  hides.  The  people 
learned  to  trade,  and  London  began  to  revive.  The 
rustics  saw  things  that  tempted  them ;  new  wants, 
new  desires  were  created  in  their  minds.  Some  of 
them  went  into  the  town  and  admired  its  life,  how 
busy  it  was,  how  full  of  companionship ;  and  they 
thought  with  pity  of  the  quiet  country  life  and  the 
long  days  all  alone  in  the  fields ;  they  desired  to  stay 
there ;  others  saw  the  beauty  of  the  arts,  and  were  at- 
tracted by  natural  aptitude  to  learn  and  practise  them. 
Others,  quicker  witted  than  the  rest,  perceived  how 
by  trade  a  man  may  live  without  his  own  handiwork 
and  by  the  labor  of  his  brother  man.  No  discovery 
ever  was  made  more  important  to  the  world  than  this 
great  fact.  "You,  my  brother,"  said  this  discoverer, 
"  shall  continue  to  dig  and  to  toil,  in  hot  weather  or 
cold ;  your  limbs  shall  stiffen  and  your  back  shall  be 
bent ;  I,  for  my  part,  will  take  your  work  and  sell 
it  in  places  where  it  is  wanted.  My  shoulders  will 
not  grow  round,  nor  will  my  back  be  bent.  On  the 
contrary,  I  shall  walk  jocund  and  erect,  with  a  laugh- 
ing eye  and  a  dancing  leg,  when  you  are  long  past 
laugh  or  saraband.  It  is  an  excellent  division  of  la- 
bor. To  me  the  market,  where  I  shall  sit  at  ease 
chaffering  with  my  wares  and  jesting  with  my  fellows 
and  feasting  at  night.  To  you  the  plough  and  the 
sickle  and  the  flail.  An  excellent  division." 


39 


Then  more  mer- 
chants came,  and  yet 
more  merchants,  and 
the  people  began  to 
flock  in  from  the  coun- 
try as  they  do  now ; 
and  London — Augus- 
ta being  dead  —  set 
her  children  to  work, 
making  some  rich,  for 
an  example  and  a 
stimulus — else  no  one 
would  work  —  and 
keeping  the  many 
poor  —  else  there 
would  be  no  chance 
for  the  few  to  get 
rich.  And  she  has 
kept  them  at  work 
ever  since.  So  that 
it  came  to  pass  when 
Bishop  Mellitus,  first 

of  the  bishops  of  London,  came  to  his  diocese  in  the 
year  604,  he  found  it  once  more  a  market  and  a  port 
with  a  goodly  trade  and  a  crowd  of  ships  and  a  new 
people,  proud,  turbulent,  and  independent. 

So  began  and  so  grew  modern  London. 

To  the  old  Rome  it  owes  nothing,  not  so  much  as 
a  tradition.  Later,  when  another  kind  of  influence 
began,  London  learned  much  and  took  much  from 
Rome;  but  from  Augusta — from  Roman  London — 
nothing.  Roman  traditions,  Roman  speech,  Roman 
superstitions  linger  yet  among  the  southern  Spaniards, 


STATUETTES:   FOUND  IN  THAMES  STREET. 


1889  (Guildhalt) 


40  LONDON 

though  the  Moor  conquered  and  held  the  country  for 
six  hundred  years.  They  linger,  in  spite  of  many 
conquests,  in  France,  in  Italy  (north  and  south),  in 
Roumania,  in  Anatolia.  In  London  alone,  of  all  the 
places  which  Imperial  Rome  made  her  own,  and  kept 
for  hundreds  of  years,  no  trace  of  ancient  Rome  re- 
mains. When  London  next  hears  of  the  Eternal 
City  it  is  Rome  of  the  Christian  Church. 

Compare  the  conquest  of  London  by  the  men  of 
Essex  with  that  of  Jerusalem  by  Titus.  The  latter 
conqueror  utterly  destroyed  the  city,  and  drove  out 
its  people.  One  might  have  expected  the  silence  of 
Silchester  or  Pevensey.  No,  the  people  crept  back 
by  degrees;  the  old  traditions  remained  and  still  re- 
main. Behind  the  monkish  sites  are  those  familiar  to 
the  common  people.  Here  is  the  old  place  of  execu- 
tion—  the  monks  knew  nothing  of  that — here  is  the 
valley  of  Hinnom  ;  here  that  of  Kedron.  These  mem- 
ories have  not  died.  But  of  the  old  Augusta  nothing 
at  all  remains.  Not  a  single  tradition  was  preserved 
by  the  scanty  remnant  of  slaves  which  survived  the 
conquest ;  not  a  single  name  survives.  All  the  streets 
have  been  renamed — nay,  their  very  course  has  been 
changed.  The  literature  of  the  City,  which,  like  Bor- 
deaux, had  its  poets  and  its  schools  of  rhetoric,  has 
disappeared  ;  it  has  vanished  as  completely  as  that  of 
Carthage.  All  the  memories  of  four  hundred  years 
have  gone ;  there  is  nothing  left  but  a  few  fragments 
of  the  old  wall,  and  these  seem  to  contain  but  little 
of  the  Roman  work :  an  old  bath,  part  of  the  course 
of  an  ancient  street,  and  the  fragment  which  we  call 
London  Stone.  Perhaps  some  portions  of  the  Roman 
river-wall  have  been  unearthed,  but  this  is  uncertain. 


AFTER   THE   ROMANS  4! 

One  fact  alone  has  been  considered  to  suggest  that 
some  of  the  old  Roman  buildings  remained  and  were 
used  again  for  their  old  purposes. 

In  the  oldest  part  of  the  City,  that  which  lies  along 
the  river-bank,  the  churches  are  mostly  dedicated  to 
the  apostles.  Those  which  stand  farther  inland  are 
dedicated  to  local  and  later  saints — St.  Dunstan,  St. 
Botolph,  St.  Osyth,  St.  Ethelburga,  for  instance.  But 
among  those  along  the  river  are  the  churches  of  St. 
Peter,  St.  Paul,  St.  Mary,  St.  Stephen,  St.  Michael. 
It  is  therefore  suggested,  but  with  hesitation,  that 
when  the  East  Saxons  took  possession  they  found  the 
Roman  basilicas  still  standing ;  that  when  they  be- 
came converted  they  learned  the  original  purpose  of 
their  churches  and  the  meaning  of  the  emblems ;  that 


ROMAN  AMPHORA 


they  proceeded  to  rebuild  them,  preserving  their  ded- 
ications, and  made  them  their  own  churches.  This 
may  be  so,  but  I  do  not  think  it  at  all  likely.  It  is 
possible,  I  say,  but  not  probable. 


42  LONDON 

You  have  heard  the  story  how  Augusta  disappeared, 
and  how  the  East  Saxons  found  it  deserted,  and  how 
London  was  born,  not  the  daughter  of  Augusta  at  all. 
Augusta  was  childless. 


APPENDIX   TO    CHAPTER    I 

The  principal  Roman  buildings  consisted  of  a  bridge,  a  wall, 
a  fort  at  either  end  of  this  bridge,  and  two  ports — Queenhithe 
and  Billingsgate.  No  one  knows  when  the  bridge  was  built : 
the  wall  was  not  erected  until  some  time  between  A.D.  350  and 
A.D.  369.  At  that  time  the  area  enclosed  by  the  wall  was  cov- 
ered with  villas  and  gardens.  The  wall  has  been  traced  with 
certainty,  and  portions  either  of  the  original  wall  or  the  medi- 
aeval repairs  have  been  found  in  many  places,  and  may  still  be 
seen  above-ground.  The  Roman  remains  which  have  been  dug 
up  consist  of  mosaic  pavements,  sepulchral  cists,  keys,  toilet  ar- 
ticles, lamps,  fibulae,  amphorae,  domestic  things,  and  a  few 
bronze  statuettes.  Nothing  whatever  has  been  found  to  show 
that  Augusta  was  ever  a  great  city,  in  the  sense  that  Massilia, 
Ephesus,  Bordeaux,  or  Alexandria  was  great. 


II 

SAXON  AND   NORMAN 

THE  citizens  of  New  London — Augusta  having 
thus  perished — were  from  the  outset  a  people  of 
mixed  race.  But  the  Saxons,  and  especially  the  East 
Saxons,  prevailed.  Strangely,  it  is  Essex  which  has 
always  prevailed  in  London.  The  modern  Cockney 
dialect,  which  says  "  laidy  "  and  "  baiby  "  for  lady  and 
baby,  and  "  whoy  "  and  "  hoigh  "  for  why  and  high,  is 
pure  Essex :  you  can  hear  it  spoken  all  over  the  coun- 
try districts  of  that  little-visited  county :  it  is  a  dialect 
so  strong  that  it  destroys  all  other  fashions  of  speech, 
even  the  burr  of  Cumberland  and  the  broad  drawl  of 
Devonshire.  Saxon  London  was  mainly  East  Saxon. 
But,  besides  the  new  owners  of  London,  there  was, 
first  of  all,  some  remnant  of  the  scattered  Welsh.  I 
do  not  mean  the  miserable  survivors  of  Augustan 
London,  found  in  the  place  when  it  was  first  entered, 
but  those  Britons  who  had  taken  refuge  in  the  forests 
of  Surrey,  Sussex,  and  Middlesex,  and  there  lived  as 
they  could,  until  they  could  safely  venture  forth 
among  their  conquerors.  Gildas,  as  we  have  seen, 
speaks  of  these  people ;  and  their  skulls  remain  in  the 
Saxon  cemeteries  to  prove  how  great  a  Celtic  element 


44  LONDON 

survived  among  the  English  conquerors.  Next,  there 
were  the  foreign  merchants.  This  class  formed  a  con- 
siderable proportion  of  the  better  class ;  and  it  grew 
larger  every  day,  because  the  East  Saxon  was  certain- 
ly not  so  sharp  in  affairs  as  the  "  man  of  Rouen ;"  nor 
was  he  in  business  capacity  equal  to  the  Fleming  and 
the  German.  But  as  happens,  mutatis  mutandis,  at 
the  present  day,  those  who  were  Flemings  and  the 
men  of  Rouen,  speaking  their  own  language,  under 
Ethelred,  had  all  become  Londoners,  speaking  the 
English  tongue,  under  Henry  Beauclerk. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  complete  revolution  in  his  man- 
ners and  customs  for  the  East  Saxon  when  he  ex- 
changed his  village  community  for  a  walled  town. 
Consider:  at  first  he  lived  retired  in  the  country,  farm- 
ing and  cattle-breeding,  banded  with  other  families 
for  safety ;  he  kept  up  the  customs  of  his  fatherland, 
he  carried  on  no  trade,  he  suffered  the  old  towns  to 
fall  into  ruin ;  his  kinglet  had  no  capital,  but  roamed 
about  from  place  to  place,  administering  justice  in  the 
royal  wagon  ;  he  enjoyed  a  ferocious  and  blood-thirsty 
religion  suiting  his  savage  disposition ;  he  knew  only 
the  simplest  arts ;  he  could  till  the  ground,  grind  his 
corn,  brew  beer  and  mead,  and  work  a  little  in  metals ; 
his  women  could  spin ;  he  knew  no  letters ;  he  looked 
for  nothing  better  than  ever-recurring  war,  with  inter- 
vals of  peace  and  feasting;  to  die  on  a  battle-field 
was  an  enviable  lot,  because  it  carried  him  away  to 
everlasting  happiness.  Look  at  the  same  man  four 
hundred  years  later.  He  is  now  a  Christian  ;  he  is,  in 
a  way,  a  scholar ;  he  is  an  architect,  an  artist,  an  illu- 
minator, a  musician,  a  law-maker,  a  diplomatist,  an  ar- 
tificer, a  caster  of  bells,  a  worker  in  gold  and  silver; 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN 


45 


he  carries  on  fisheries;  he  is  a  merchant;  he  builds 
ships;  he  founds  trade-guilds  —  he  is  as  far  removed 
from  the  fierce  warrior  who  leaped  ashore  at  Thanet 
as  the  Romano -Briton  whom  he  conquered  was  re- 
moved from  the  naked  savage  who  opposed  the  arms 
of  Caesar. 

The   difference   is   chiefly   due   to   his   conversion. 
This  has  brought  him  under  the  influence  of  Rome 
Ecclesiastic.     It  has  educated  him,  turned  him  into  a 
townsman,  and  made  growth 
possible  for  him.   No  growth 
is  possible  for  any  race  until 
it  first  accepts  the  creed  of 
civilization. 

London  was  converted  in 
A.D.  604.  This  was  a  hasty 
and  incomplete  conversion, 
executed  to  order;  for  the 
citizens  speedily  relapsed. 
Then  they  were  again  con- 
verted, and  in  sober  earnest 
put  away  their  old  gods, 
keeping  only  a  few » of  the 
more  favorite  superstitions ; 

some  of  these  remain  still  with  us.  They  were  so 
thoroughly  converted  that  the  city  of  London  be- 
come a  veritable  mother  of  saints.  There  was  the 
venerable  Erkenwald,  saint  and  bishop,  he  who  built 
Bishopsgate  on  the  site  of  the  old  Roman  gate.  There 
was  St.  Ethelburga,  the  wife  of  Sebert,  the  first 
Christian  king ;  her  church  still  stands,  though  not 
the  earliest  building,  close  beside  the  site  of  the  old 
gate.  There  was  St.  Osyth,  queen  and  martyr,  the 


LONDON    STONE,  CANNON    STREET, 
AS    IT   APPEARED    IN    iSoO 


46  LONDON 

mother  of  King  Offa ;  her  name  also  survives  in  Size, 
or  St.  Osyth's,  Lane,  but  the  Church  of  St.  Osyth  was 
rededicated  to  St.  Ben'et  Sherehog  (Benedict  Skin- 
the-Pig) ;  you  may  see  the  little  old  church-yard  still, 
black  and  grimy,  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  tall 
houses.  English  piety  loved  to  dedicate  churches  to 
English  saints  —  more  likely  these  than  Italian  or 
French — to  look  after  the  national  interests.  Thus 
there  were  in  London  churches  dedicated  to  St. 
Dunstan,  St.  Swithin,  St.  Botolph  (whose  affection 
for  the  citizens  was  so  well  known  that  it  was  recog- 
nized by  four  churches),  St.  Edmund  the  Martyr,  and, 
later  on,  when  the  Danes  got  their  turn,  churches  to 
St.  Olaf  and  St.  Magnus. 

The  Englishman,  thus  converted,  was  received  into 
the  company  of  civilized  nations.  Scholars  came 
across  the  Channel  to  teach  him  Latin,  monks  came 
to  teach  him  the  life  of  self-sacrifice,  obedience,  sub- 
mission, and  abstinence.  The  monastery  reared  its 
humble  walls  everywhere ;  the  first  foundation  of  the 
first  bishop  of  London  was  a  monastery.  In  times  of 
war  between  the  kinglets — when  were  there  no  wars  ? 
— the  monasteries,  after  the  whole  country  had  been 
converted,  were  spared.  Therefore  the  people  settled 
around  them,  and  enjoyed  their  protection.  The  mon- 
astery towns  grew  rapidly  and  prospered.  New  arts 
were  introduced  and  taught  by  the  monks,  new  ideas 
sprang  up  among  the  people,  new  wants  were  created. 
Moreover,  intercourse  began  with  other  nations — the 
ecclesiastic  who  journeyed  to  Rome  took  with  him  a 
goodly  troop  of  priests,  monks,  and  laymen  ;  they  saw 
strange  lands  and  observed  strange  customs.  Some  of 
them  learned  foreign  languages,  and  even  made  friend- 


SAXON   AND    NORMAN  47 

ships  with  the  men  who  spoke  them,  discovering  that 
a  man  who  speaks  another  tongue  is  not  necessarily 
an  enemy.  The  Englishman  was  changed ;  yet  he 
remained  still,  as  he  always  does,  whether  he  creates 
a  new  empire  in  America,  or  one  in  Australia,  always 
an  Englishman. 

Meantime  the  kinglets  made  war  with  each  other, 
and  London  became  a  prize  for  each  in  turn.  It 
passed  from  the  East  Saxon  to  the  Northumbrian,  to 
the  Mercian,  to  the  West  Saxon,  as  the  hegemony 
passed  from  one  to  the  other.  Each  kinglet  learned 
more  and  more  to  recognize  its  importance  and  its 
value.  One  of  the  oldest  civic  documents  extant  is  a 
grant  of  King  Ethelbald  to  the  Bishop  of  Rochester. 
He  gives  him  the  right  of  passing  one  ship  of  his  own, 
or  of  another's,  free  of  toll  into  the  port  of  London. 
The  toll  of  incoming  and  outgoing  vessels  formed, 
therefore,  part  of  the  royal  revenue. 

The  history  of  London  between  A.D.  600  and  the 
Norman  Conquest  is  the  history  of  England.  How 
the  City  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Danes,  how  it  was 
finally  secured  by  Alfred,  how  the  Danes  again  ob- 
tained the  City  without  fighting,  and  how  the  Norman 
was  received  in  peace,  belong  to  history.  All  this 
time  London  was  steadily  growing.  Whatever  king 
sat  on  the  throne,  her  trade  increased,  and  her  wealth. 

The  buildings,  till  long  after  the  Norman  Conquest, 
were  small  and  mean :  the  better  houses  were  timber 
frames,  with  shutters  or  lattices,  but  no  glass  for  the 
windows  ;  the  poorer  houses  were  of  wattle  and  daub. 
The  churches  were  numerous  and  small.  Some  of 
them  were  still  of  wood,  though  a  few  were  built  of 
stone,  with  the  simple  circular  arch.  The  first  church 


48  LONDON 

of  St.  Paul's  was  destroyed  by  fire,  a  fate  which  awaited 
the  second  and  the  third.  By  the  time  of  Edward  the 
Confessor  the  second  church  was  completed  ;  but  of 
this  church  we  have  no  record  whatever.  The  Saxon 
period,  as  concerns  London,  is  the  darkest  of  any. 
You  may  see  at  the  Guildhall  nearly  everything  that 
remains  of  Roman  London.  But  there  is  nothing, 
absolutely  not  one  single  stone,  to  illustrate  Saxon 
London.  The  city  which  grew  up  over  the  deserted 
Augusta  and  flourished  for  four  hundred  years  has  en- 
tirely disappeared.  Nothing  is  left  of  it  at  all.  The 
chief  destroyer  of  Saxon  London  was  the  great  fire 
of  1 1 35,  which  swept  London  from  end  to  end  as  ef- 
fectually as  that  of  1666.  Had  it  not  been  for  these 
two  fires,  we  should  very  likely  have  still  standing  one 
or  two  of  the  sturdy  little  Saxon  churches  of  which 
the  country  yet  affords  one  surviving  example.  Yet 
London  is  not  alone  in  having  no  monuments  of  this 
period.  If  we  take  any  other  town,  what  remains  in 
it  of  the  years  A.D.  600-1000?  What  is  left  in  Rome 
to  mark  the  reigns  of  the  eighty  Popes  who  fill  that 
period  ?  What  in  Paris  to  illustrate  the  rule  of  the 
Carlovingians?  Fire  and  the  piety  of  successive  gen- 
erations have  destroyed  all  the  buildings. 

For  outside  show  the  city  of  Edward  the  Confessor 
and  that  of  the  second  Henry  were  very  nearly  the 
same,  and  so  may  be  treated  together.  The  churches 
burned  down  in  1135  were  rebuilt  in  stone,  but  the 
houses  presented  much  the  same  appearance.  Now, 
everybody  who  speaks  of  Norman  London  must  needs 
speak  of  William  Fitz  Stephen.  He  is  our  only  au- 
thority ;  all  that  we  can  do  is  to  make  commentaries 
and  guesses  based  on  the  text  of  Fitz  Stephen. 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN  49 

He  was  a  clerk  in  the  service  of  Thomas  a  Becket; 
he  was  present  at  the  archbishop's  murder  ;  he  wrote 
a  Life  of  the  saint,  to  which  he  prefixed,  by  happy  in- 
spiration, a  brief  eulogy  of  the  City  of  London.  It  is 


BATTLE    BETWEEN    TWO    ARMED    KNIGHTS 


far  too  brief,  but  it  contains  facts  of  the  most  priceless 
importance.  London,  we  learn,  possessed,  besides 
its  great  cathedral,  thirteen  large  conventual  churches 
and  one  hundred  and  twenty -six  parish  churches. 
The  White  Tower  was  already  built  on  the  east  side ; 
the  walls  of  the  City,  now  kept  in  good  repair,  en- 
circled it  on  all  sides  except  the  river ;  here  the  wall 
which  had  formerly  defended  the  river  front  had  been 
taken  down  to  make  way  for  warehouses  and  quays ; 
the  Royal  Palace  stood  without  the  City,  but  con- 
nected with  it  by  a  populous  suburb.  Those  who 
lived  "  in  the  suburbs  " — that  is,  about  Chancery  Lane 
and  Holborn — had  spacious  and  beautiful  gardens ; 
there  were  also  on  this  side  pasture  and  meadow 
lands,  with  streams  and  water-mills ;  beyond  the  past- 
ures was  a  great  forest  filled  with  wild  creatures;  many 
springs  of  water  rose  on  the  north  side.  The  City 
was  so  populous  that  of  those  who  went  out  to  a 
muster,  20,000  were  chosen  as  horsemen  and  60,000 
for  the  foot.  We  will  discuss  the  question  of  popula- 
tion later  on.  Meantime  one  may  remark  that  a  force 
4 


50  LONDON 

of  80,000  always  ready  to  be  called  out  means  a  popu- 
lation of  320,000  at  least,  which  is  indeed  absurd,  es- 
pecially when  we  consider  that  the  population  of 
London,  as  shown  by  the  poll-tax  of  Richard  II.,  was 
only  about  40,000. 

There  were  three  principal  schools,  but  sometimes 
other  schools  were  opened  "  by  favor  and  permission." 
We  are  not  told  what  schools  these  were  ;  but  there 
was  always  a  school  of  some  kind  attached  to  every 
monastery  and  nunnery.  The  boys  were  taught  Latin 
verse,  grammar,  and  rhetoric  ;  they  disputed  with  each 
other  in  the  churches  on  feast-days,  especially  about 
the  "principles  of  grammar,  and  the  rules  of  the  past 
and  future  tenses  " — truly,  an  agreeable  pastime. 

The  different  trades  of  the  City  were  allotted  their 
own  places  of  work  and  sale.  Fitz  Stephen  does  not 
name  the  various  quarters,  but  they  can  be  easily  as- 
certained from  Stow,  though  the  place  assigned  to 
each  was  sometimes  changed.  Thus,  the  chief  market 
and  trading-place  of  the  City  was  always  Cheap,  a 
broad,  open  place  with  booths  and  sheds  for  the  ex- 
posure of  wares,  on  the  north  and  south.  The  names 
of  the  streets  leading  out  of  Cheap  indicate  the  trades 
that  were  carried  on  in  them.  The  streets  called 
Wood,  Milk,  Iron,  Honey,  Poultry,  mark  the  site  of 
certain  markets  on  the  north.  Those  named  after 
Bread,  Candles,  Soap,  Fish,  Money  -  changing,  are 
shown  on  the  south.  Along  the  rivers  were  breweries, 
of  which  one  remains  to  this  day ;  artificers  of  vari- 
ous kinds  were  gathered  together  in  their  own  streets 
about  the  town.  This  custom  of  congregation  was  use- 
ful in  more  ways  than  one  :  it  gave  dignity  to  the  craft 
and  inspired  self-respect  for  the  craftsmen,  it  kept  up 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN  5! 

the  standard  of  good  work,  it  made  craftsmen  regard 
each  other  as  brethren,  not  as  enemies  ;  it  gave  them 
guilds,  of  which  our  trades-unions,  which  think  of  noth- 
ing but  wages,  are  the  degenerate  successors ;  and  it 
brought  each  trade  under  the  salutary  rule  of  the 
Church. 

There  was  then — there  has  always  been — a  great 
plenty  of  food  in  the  city  of  London  ;  on  the  river- 
bank,  among  the  vintners,  there  were  eating-houses 
where  at  all  times  of  the  day  and  every  day  there 
were  cooked  and  sold  meat  and  fish  and  every  kind  of 
food.  Once  a  week,  on  Friday,  there  was  a  horse-fair 
in  Smithfield  without  the  walls;  at  this  fair  there  were 
races  every  week. 

The  young  men  of  the  City  were  greatly  addicted 
to  sports  of  all  kinds:  they  skated  in  winter,  they  tilted 
on  the  water  and  on  land,  they  fought,  wrestled,  prac- 
tised archery,  danced,  and  sang.  They  were  a  turbu- 
lent, courageous,  free  and  independent  youth,  proud 
of  their  city  and  its  wealth,  proud  of  their  power  and 
their  freedom,  proud  of  the  trade  which  came  to  their 
quays  from  every  part  of  the  world.  What  says  Fitz 
Stephen  ? 

"  Aurum  mittit  Arabs  :   species  et  thura  Sabaeus  : 
Arma  Scythes :  oleum  palmarum  divite  sylva 
Pingue  solum  Babylon  :   Nilus  lapides  pretiosos : 
Norwegi,  Russi,  varium  grisum,  sabelinas  : 
Seres,  purpureas  vestes :   Galli,  sua  vina." 

The  good  cleric  is  a  little  mixed  in  his  geography. 
The  Arabs  certainly  had  no  gold  to  send  ;  the  Sa- 
baeans  were,  however,  Arabs  of  Saba,  in  Arabia  Felix : 
they  sent  myrrh  and  frankincense;  spices  came  from 
another  country.  Why  does  he  assign  arms  to  the 


52  LONDON 

Scythians?  Egypt  had  turquoise  mines, but  no  other 
precious  stones.  The  purple  garments  of  the  Seres, 
or  Chinaman,  are  silks.  Norway  and  Russia  still  send 
sables  and  other  furs,  and  France,  happily,  still  sends 
claret. 

The  city  (Fitz  Stephen  adds),  like  Rome,  is  divided  into 
wards,  has  annual  sheriffs  for  its  consuls,  has  senatorial  and 
lower  magistrates,  sewers  and  aqueducts  in  its  streets  —  its 
proper  places  and  separate  courts  for  cases  of  each  kind,  de- 
liberative, demonstrative,  judicial — and  has  assemblies  on 'ap- 
pointed days.  I  do  not  think  there  is  a  city  with  more  com- 
mendable customs  of  church  attendance,  honor  to  God's 
ordinances,  keeping  sacred  festivals,  almsgiving,  hospitality, 
confirming  betrothals,  contracting  marriages,  celebration  of 
nuptials,  preparing  feasts,  cheering  the  guests,  and  also  in  care 
for  funerals  and  the  interment  of  the  dead.  The  only  pests  of 
London  are  the  immoderate  drinking  of  fools,  and  the  frequen- 
cy of  fires.  To  this  may  be  added  that  nearly  all  the  Bishops, 
Abbots,  and  Magnates  of  England  are,  as  it  were,  citizens  and 
freemen  of  London,  having  their  own  splendid  houses  to  which 
they  resort,  where  they  spend  largely  when  summoned  to  great 
Councils  by  the  King  or  by  their  Metropolitan,  or  drawn  thith- 
er by  their  own  private  affairs. 

A  noble  picture  of  a  noble  city ! 


KIVER    TILTING   IN    THE   TWELFTH    CENTURY 

Let  us  consider  the  monuments  of  the  City.  There 
remains  of  Saxon  London  nothing.  Of  Norman  Lon- 
don, the  great  White  Tower,  the  crypt  of  Bow,  the 
crypt  of  St.  John's  Priory  (outside  the  City),  part  of 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN  53 

the  church  of  Bartholomew  the  Great,  part  of  St. 
Ethelburga's,  Bishopsgate  ;  there  is  nothing  more.1 

The  cathedral  of  St.  Paul's  when  Fitz  Stephen 
wrote  was  slowly  rising  from  its  ashes.  It  had  been 
already  twice  destroyed  by  fire.  First,  the  church 
founded  by  Mellitus  and  beautified  by  Bishop  Cedd 
and  King  Sebbi  was  burned  to  the  ground  in  the  year 
961.  We  know  nothing  at  all  of  this  building  or  of 
its  successor,  which  was  destroyed  in  the  year  1086. 
Bishop  Maurice  began  to  rebuild  the  church  in  the 
following  year,  but  it  was  two  hundred  years  before  it 
was  completed.  This  cathedral  therefore  belongs  to 
a  later  period.  That  which  was  destroyed  in  1084 
must  have  resembled  in  its  round  arches  and  thick 
pillars  the  cathedral  of  Durham. 

The  church  and  the  various  buildings  which  be- 
longed to  it  in  the  reign  of  Henry  I.  were  surrounded 
by  a  wall.  This  wall  included  the  whole  area  now 
known  as  St.  Paul's  Church-yard,  and  as  far  as  Pater- 
noster Row  on  the  north  side.  There  were  six  gates 
to  the  wall ;  the  sites  of  two  are  preserved  in  the 
names  of  St.  Paul's  Alley  and  Paul's  Chain.  The 
Bishop's  Palace  was  on  the  north-west  corner;  the 
chapter-house  was  on  the  south  side  of  the  church ; 
on  the  north  was  a  charnel-house  and  a  chapel  over 
it ;  close  beside  this  was  a  small  enclosure  called  Par- 
don Church-yard,  where  a  chapel  was  founded  by  Gil- 
bert a  Becket,  the  saint's  father.  This  enclosure  was 
afterwards  converted  into  a  beautiful  cloister,  painted 
with  a  Dance  of  Death,  called  the  Dance  of  St.  Paul's. 


'See  Loftie's  History  of  London,  Appendix  N,  "List  of  Buildings 
which  existed  before  the  Great  Fire." 


54 


LONDON 


Close  beside  Pardon  Church-yard  was  the  chapel  of 
Jesus,  serving  for  the  parish  church  of  St.  Faith  until 
the  chapel  was  destroyed,  when  the  parish  obtained 
the  crypt  for  its  church.  St.  Faith's  is  now  coupled 
with  St.  Augustine's. 


CRYPT:   REMAINS  OF  THE  COLLEGIATE  CHURCH 
OF  ST.  MARTIN-LK-GRAND,  N.K. 


Of  the  thirteen  large  conventual  churches  mentioned 
by  Fitz  Stephen,  we  may  draw  up  a  tolerably  com- 
plete list :  St.  Martin-le-Grand,  St.  Katherine's  by  the 
Tower,  St.  Mary  Overies,  Holy  Trinity  Priory,  St. 
Bartholomew's  Priory,  St.  Giles's  Hospital,  St.  Mary 
of  Bethlehem,  the  priory  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem, 


SAXON*  AND   NORMAN  55 

the  nunnery  afterwards  turned  into  Elsing's  Spital,  the 
nunnery  of  St.  John  Baptist,  Hollywell,  the  nunnery 
of  Clerkenwell,  the  new  Temple  in  Fleet  Street,  and 
the  old  Temple  in  Holborn,  perhaps  make  up  the 
thirteen.  I  cannot  believe  that  Fitz  Stephen  could 
have  included  either  Barking  Abbey  or  Merton  Abbey 
in  his  list. 

The  most  ancient  monastic  foundation,  next  to  that 
of  St.  Paul's,  was  St.  Martin's  House  or  College. 
Why  St.  Martin  was  so  popular  in  this  country,  which 
had  so  many  saints  of  her  own,  is  not  easily  intelligi- 
ble. Perhaps  the  story  of  the  partition  of  the  cloak 
at  the  gate  of  Amiens,  while  the  saint  was  still  a  sol- 
dier, struck  the  imagination  of  the  people.  Certainly 
the  saint's  austerities  at  Liguj6  would  not  attract  the 
world.  In  London  alone  there  were  the  church  of 
St.  Martin's,  Ludgate  Hill,  said  to  have  been  found- 
ed in  very  early  Saxon  times,  that  of  St.  Martin's 
Outwich,  of  St.  Martin  Orgar,  St.  Martin  Pomary,  and 
St.  Martin  Vintry — five  parish  churches  to  attest  his 
sanctity  and  his  popularity. 

St.  Martin-le-Grand,  sanctuary  and  collegiate  church, 
was  a  Liberty  to  itself.  Here  criminals  found  safety 
and  could  not  be  arrested,  a  privilege  which  lasted 
long  after  the  dissolution  of  the  religious  houses. 
Among  the  deans  of  St.  Martin's  was  William  of 
Wykeham. 

One  church  only  of  the  whole  thirteen  still  stands. 
Part  of  the  present  church  of  St.  Bartholomew  the 
Great  is  that  actually  built  by  Rahere,  the  first  founder, 
in  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century. 

The  story  of  Rahere  is  interesting  but  incomplete, 
and  involved  in  many  difficulties.  He  is  variously  said 


56  LONDON 

to  have  been  the  king's  minstrel,  the  king's  jester,  a 
knight  of  good  family,  and  a  man  of  low  origin,  who 
haunted  great  men's  tables  and  made  them  laugh — 
nothing  less  than  the  comic  person  of  the  period,  en- 
tirely given  over  to  the  pleasures  of  the  world.  In 
short,  the  customary  profligate,  who  presently  saw 
the  error  of  his  ways,  and  was  converted.  The  last 
statement  is  quite  possible,  because,  as  is  well  known, 
there  was  at  this  time  a  considerable  revival  of  re- 
ligion. The  story  goes  on  to  say  that,  being  penitent, 
Rahere  went  on  a  pilgrimage.  Nothing  more  likely. 
At  this  time,  going  on  pilgrimage  offered  attractions 
irresistible  to  many  men.  It  was  a  most  agreeable 
way  of  proving  one's  repentance,  showing  a  contrite 
heart,  and  procuring  absolution.  It  also  enabled  the 
penitent  to  see  the  world,  and  to  get  a  beneficial 
change  of  air,  food,  and  friends.  There  were  dangers 
on  the  way:  they  lent  excitement  to  the  journey; 
robbers  waylaid  those  of  the  prilgrims  who  had  any 
money ;  fevers  struck  them  low ;  if  they  marched 
through  the  lands  of  the  infidel,  they  were  often  at- 
tacked and  stripped,  if  not  slain ;  the  plains  of  Asia 
Minor  were  white  with  the  bones  of  those  cut  off  on 
their  way  to  the  Holy  Land.  But  think  of  the  joy, 
to  one  of  an  inquiring  and  curious  mind  who  had 
never  before  been  beyond  sight  of  the  gray  old  Lon- 
don walls,  to  be  travelling  in  a  country  where  every- 
thing was  new  —  the  speech,  the  food,  the  wine,  the 
customs,  the  dress  —  with  a  goodly  company,  the 
length  of  the  road  beguiled  by  pleasant  talk!  Every- 
body pilgrimized  who  could,  even  the  poorest  and  the 
lowest.  The  poorest  could  go  as  well  as  the  richest, 
because  the  pilgrim  wanted  no  money — he  would  start 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN 


57 


upon  his  tramp  with  an  empty  scrip.  Such  an  one 
had  naught  to  lose,  and  feared  no  robbers  ;  he  received 
bed  and  supper  every  night  at  some  monastery,  and 
was  despatched  in  the  morning  after  a  solid  breakfast. 


ll  IP 

-  .  .— mm  ml 


THE  FOUNDER'S  TOMB,  ST.  BARTHOLOMEW  THE  GREAT,  E.G., 
FOUNDED  1123 


58  LONDON 

When  he  at  length  arrived  at  the  shrine  for  which  he 
was  bound,  he  repeated  the  prayers  ordered,  per- 
formed the  necessary  crawlings,  and  heard  the  neces- 
sary masses ;  he  then  returned  home,  his  soul  purified, 
his  sins  forgiven,  his  salvation  assured,  and  his  memory 
charged  with  good  stories  for  the  rest  of  his  life. 
The  English  pilgrim  fared  sometimes  to  Walsingham, 
sometimes  to  Canterbury,  sometimes  farther  afield. 
He  journeyed  on  foot  through  France  and  Italy  to 
Rome ;  he  even  tramped  all  across  Europe  and  Asia 
Minor,  if  he  could  be  received  in  some  great  company 
guarded  by  the  knights  of  St.  John  to  the  Holy  Land. 
The  roads  in  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries  were 
covered  with  pilgrims ;  the  Mediterranean  was  black 
with  ships  going  from  Marseilles,  from  Genoa,  from 
Naples,  to  the  port  of  St.  Jean  d'Acre.  Even  the 
rustic,  discovering  that  he,  too,  simple  and  unlettered 
as  he  was,  had  a  soul  to  be  saved,  and  that  it  would 
be  better  not  to  trust  altogether  to  the  last  offices  of 
the  parish  priest,  threw  down  his  spade,  deserted  his 
wife  and  his  children,  and  went  off  on  pilgrimage.  At 
last  the  bishops  interfered,  and  enjoined  that  no  one 
should  be  considered  and  received  as  a  pilgrim  who 
could  not  produce  an  episcopal  license.  It  was  no 
longer  enough  for  a  man  to  get  repentance  in  order  to 
get  the  run  of  the  road  and  of  his  teeth ;  and,  since 
the  episcopal  license  was  not  granted  to  everybody, 
the  rustics  had  to  fall  back  on  what  the  parish  church 
afforded,  and  have  ever  since  been  contented  with  her 
advice  and  authority. 

There  was  an  Office  of  Pilgrims,  which  was  to  be 
rendered  in  the  following  fashion : 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN  59 

• 

Two  of  the  second  stall,  who  may  be  put  in  the  table  at  the 
pleasure  of  the  writer,  shall  be  clothed  in  a  Tunic,  with  copes 
above,  carrying  staves  across,  and  scrips  in  the  manner  of  Pil- 
grims; and  they  shall  have  cappelli*  over  their  heads,  and  be 
bearded.  Let  them  go  from  the  Vestiary,  singing  a  hymn, 
"Jesus,  our  redemption,"  advancing  with  a  slow  step,  through 
the  right  aisle  of  the  Church,  as  far  as  the  Western  gates,  and 
there  stopping,  sing  a  hymn  as  far  as  that  place,  "  You  shall  be 
satisfied  with  my  likeness."  Then  a  certain  Priest  of  the  higher 
stall,  written  in  the  table,  clothed  in  an  Alb  and  Amess,  barefoot- 
ed, carrying  a  cross  upon  his  right  shoulder,  with  a  look  cast 
downward,  coming  to  them  through  the  right  aisle  of  the 
Church,  shall  suddenly  stand  between  them,  and  say,  "  What 
are  these  discourses  ?"  The  Pilgrims,  as  it  were,  admiring  and 
looking  upon  him,  shall  say,  "Are  you  a  stranger?"  etc.  The 
Priest  shall  answer.  "  In  what  city  ?"  The  Pilgrims  shall  an- 
swer, "Of  Jesus  of  Nazareth."  The  Priest,  looking  upon  both 
of  them,  shall  say,  "  O  fools,  and  slow  of  heart,"  which  being 
said,  the  Priest  immediately  shall  retire,  and  pretend  to  be 
going  farther ;  but  the  Pilgrims  hurrying  up,  and  following 
him,  shall  detain  him,  as  it  were,  inviting  him  to  their  inn,  and 
drawing  him  with  their  staves,  shall  show  him  a  castle  and  say, 
"  Stay  with  us."  And  so  singing  they  shall  lead  him  as  far  as 
a  tent  in  the  middle  of  the  nave  of  the  Church,  made  in  the  re- 
semblance of  the  Castle  Emmaus.  When  they  have  ascended 
thither,  and  sat  at  a  table  ready  prepared,  the  Lord  sitting  be- 
tween them  shall  break  the  bread ;  and  being  discovered  by 
this  means,  shall  suddenly  retire,  and  vanish  from  their  sight. 
But  they,  amazed  as  it  were,  rising,  with  their  countenances 
turned  to  each  other,  shall  sing  lamentably  "  Alleluia,"  with  the 
verse,  "  Did  not  our  heart  burn,"  etc.,  which  being  renewed, 
turning  themselves  towards  the  stall,  they  shalf  sing  this  verse, 
"  Tell  us,  Mary."  Then  a  certain  person  of  the  higher  stall, 
clothed  in  a  Dalmatick  and  Amess,  and  bound  round  in  the 
manner  of  a  woman,  shall  answer,  "  The  Sepulchre  of  Christ ; 
the  Angels  are  witnesses."  Then  he  shall  extend  and  unfold 

1  A  hat  or  bonnet.     Du  Cange. 


60          '  LONDON 

• 

a  cloth  from  one  part,  instead  of  clothes,  and  throw  it  before 
the  great  gate  of  the  Choir.  Afterwards  he  shall  say,  "Christ 
is  risen."  The  Choir  shall  sing  two  other  verses,  following,  and 
then  the  Master  shall  go  within ;  a  procession  be  made ;  and 
Vespers  be  ended.1 

There  was  also  a  Consecration  of  Pilgrims,  as  fol- 
lows : 

The  Pilgrims  first  confessed  all  their  sins,  after  which  they 
lay  prostrate  before  the  Altar.  Particular  prayers  and  psalms 
were  then  said  over  them,  and  after  every  psalm  (with  manifest 
skilful  appropriation)  the  Gloria  Patri  ;  the  Psalm,  Ad  te,  Do- 
mine,  levavi ;  and  the  Miserere.  At  the  end  of  these,  the 
Pilgrims  arose  from  their  prostrate  position,  and  the  Priest 
consecrated  their  scrips  and  staves,  saying,  "  The  Lord  be 
with  you,"  and  "  let  us  pray,"  etc.  He  next  sprinkled  holy 
water  upon  their  scrips  and  staves,  and  placed  the  scrip  around 
the  neck  of  each  pilgrim,  with  other  religious  services.  After- 
wards he  delivered  to  them  the  staff  with  similar  prayers.  If 
any  of  the  Pilgrims  were  going  to  Jerusalem,  their  garments 
were  in  readiness,  marked  with  the  cross,  and  the  crosses  were 
consecrated,  and  holy  water  sprinkled  over  them.  The  gar- 
ments and  crosses  were  then  delivered  to  the  Pilgrims,  ac- 
companied by  appropriate  prayers.  The  service  concluded 
with  the  Mass  De  Iter  Agentibus? 

Rahere,  therefore,  among  the  rest,  pilgrimized  to 
Rome.  Now  it  happened  that  on  the  way,  either  go- 
ing or  returning,  he  fell  grievously  sick  and  was  like 
to  die.  As  medical  science  in  those  days  commanded 
but  small  confidence,  men  naturally  turned  to  the 
saints,  and  besieged  them  with  petitions  for  renewed 
health.  Rahere  betook  himself  to  St.  Bartholomew, 
to  whom  he  promised  a  hospital  for  poor  men  should 
he  recover.  Most  fortunately  for  London,  St.  Bar- 

1  Fosbrooke's  Mottachism.  *  Fosbrooke. 


SOUTH    AMBULATORY,  CHURCH    OF   ST.   BARTHOLOMEW,  FOUNDED    1 123 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN  63 

tholomew  graciously  accepted  the  proposal,  and  cured 
the  pilgrim.  Rahere  therefore  returned :  he  chose 
the  site,  and  was  about  to  build  the  hospital,  when 
the  saint  appeared  to  him  and  ordered  him  to  found, 
as  well,  a  church.  Rahere  promised.  He  even  went 
beyond  his  promise :  he  founded  his  hospital  of  St. 
Bartholomew,  which  still  exists,  a  perennial  fountain 
of  life  and  health,  and,  besides  this,  a  priory  for 
canons  regular,  and  a  church  for  the  priory.  The 
church  still  stands,  one  of  the  most  noble  monuments 
in  London.  One  Alfune,  who  had  founded  the  church 
of  St.  Giles  Cripplegate,  became  the  first  Hospitaller, 
going  every  day  to  the  shambles  to  beg  for  meat  for 
the  sick  poor.  Rahere  became  the  first  prior  of  his 
own  foundation,  and  now  lies  buried  in  his  church 
within  a  splendid  tomb  called  after  his  name,  but  of 
fifteenth-century  work. 

The  mysterious  part  of  the  story  is  how  Rahere,  a 
simple  gentleman,  if  not  a  jester,  was  able  to  raise 
this  splendid  structure  and  to  found  so  noble  a  hospi- 
tal. For,  even  supposing  the  hospital  and  priory  to 
have  been  at  first  small  and  insignificant,  the  church 
itself  remains,  a  monument  of  lavish  and  pious  benefi- 
cence. The  story,  in  order  to  account  for  the  build- 
ing of  so  great  a  church,  goes  off  into  a  drivelling  ac- 
count of  how  Rahere  feigned  to  be  a  simple  idiot. 

A  great  many  people  every  year  visit  this  noble 
church,  now  partly  restored.  Very  few  of  them  take 
the  trouble  to  step  round  to  the  back  of  the  church. 
Yet  there  are  one  or  two  things  worth  noting  in  that 
nest  of  low  courts  and  squalid  streets.  Cloth  Fair, 
for  instance,  still  possesses  a  few  of  its  old  timbered 
and  gabled  houses.  But  on  the  other  side  a  small 


64  LONDON 

portion  of  the  old  monastery  church-yard  yet  remains, 
and,  in  a  row  of  two  or  three  cottages,  each  with  a 
tiny  garden  in  front:  a  cottage-garden  close  to  Smith- 
field — survives  a  memory  of  the  garden  which  once 
stretched  over  this  monastery  court. 


ST.  KATHERINK'S  BY  THE  TOWBR 


Some  of  the  other  foundations  enumerated  were 
only  recently  founded  when  Fitz  Stephen  wrote,  and 
rightly  belong  to  Plantagenet  London.  But  the  no- 
ble foundation  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Aldgate,  was  due 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN 


to  Matilda,  queen  of  Henry  I.,  who  also  founded  St. 
Giles's  Hospital,  beside  St.  Giles-in-the-Fields.  And 
the  priory  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  the  chief  seat  in 
England  of  the  Knights  Hospitallers,  was  founded  in 
the  year  1 100,  by 
Jordan  Briset,  and 
Muriel,  his  wife. 

St.  Katherine's  by 
the  Tower  was  first 
founded  by  Matilda, 
wife  of  King  Ste- 
phen. This,  the  most 
interesting  of  all  the 
city  foundations,  has 
survived,  in  degraded 
form,  to  the  present 
day.  Its  appearance 
when  it  was  pulled 
down,  sixty  years 
ago,  and  as  it  is  fig- 
ured, was  very  much 
unlike  the  original 
foundation  by  Queen 
Matilda.  Yet  the  life 
of  this  old  place  had 
been  continuous. 
For  seven  hundred 

years  it  remained  on  the  spot  where  it  was  first  estab- 
lished. Matilda  first  founded  St.  Katherine's,  as  a  hos- 
pit ale  pauper um,  for  the  repose  of  the  souls  of  her  two 
children  who  died  and  were  buried  in  the  Holy  Trin- 
ity Priory.  It  was  to  consist  of  thirteen  members — 
"  Brothers  and  Sisters."  It  was  endowed  with  cer- 

5 


INTERIOR  OF  THE  CHURCH  OF  ST.  KATH- 
URINE'S  BY  THE  TOWER 


66  LONDON 

tain  estates  which  the  society,  after  this  long  lapse  of 
time,  still  enjoys ;  the  sisters  had  the  right  of  voting 
at  chapter  meetings — a  right  which  they  still  retain. 
The  hospital  was  placed  in  the  charge  or  custody  of 
the  prior  of  Holy  Trinity.  A  hundred  years  later 
there  was  a  dispute  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  right  of 
custody,  which  the  priory  maintained  to  be  owner- 
ship. In  the  end  Queen  Eleanor  obtained  possession 
of  the  place,  and  greatly  increased  its  wealth  and  dig- 
nity. Under  her  it  consisted  of  a  master,  three  broth- 
ers in  orders,  three  sisters,  and  ten  bedeswomen.  They 
all  lived  in  their  college  round  the  church  of  St.  Kath- 
erine.  Queen  Philippa,  another  benefactor,  further 
endowed  the  hospital,  adding  two  chaplains  and  six 
poor  scholars.  Philippa's  new  charter,  with  the  build- 
ing of  a  splendid  church,  raised  the  hospital  to  a  posi- 
tion far  above  the  small  foundation  of  poor  men  and 
women  designed  by  Matilda.  It  now  stood  within 
its  precinct  of  eleven  acres,  possessed  of  its  own 
courts,  spiritual  and  temporal,  its  own  law  officers, 
and  even  its  own  prison.  Its  good -fortune  in  being 
considered  the  private  property  of  the  Queen  Consort 
caused  it  to  escape  the  general  suppression  of  the  re- 
ligious houses.  It  lived  on — albeit  a  sleepy  life — a 
centre  of  religion  and  education  to  the  poor  people 
among  whom  it  was  placed.  It  should  have  lived 
there  till  this  day :  it  should  have  become  the  West- 
minster Abbey  of  East  London ;  but  greed  of  gain 
destroyed  it.  Its  venerable  buildings  —  its  chapel, 
college,  cloisters,  and  courts  were  all  destroyed  sixty 
years  ago  in  order  to  construct  on  their  site  the  docks 
called  St.  Katherine's,  which  were  not  wanted  for  the 
trade  of  the  City.  In  order  to  construct  docks,  in  ri- 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN  67 

valry  with  other  docks  already  established,  this  most 
precious  monument  of  the  past  —  the  Abbey  Church 
of  East  London  —  was  ruthlessly  destroyed.  Who 
would  believe  such  a  thing?  The  dust  and  ashes  of 
the  nameless  dead  which  filled  its  burying-yard  were 
carried  away  and  used  to  fill  up  certain  old  reservoirs, 
on  the  site  of  which  were  built  streets  and  squares ; 
and  in  Regent's  Park  they  stuck  up  a  new  chapel, 
with  half  a  dozen  neat  houses  round  it,  and  called 
that  St.  Katherine's  by  the  Tower.  Some  day  this 
foundation,  with  its  income  of  £10,000  a  year,  must  be 
sent  back  to  East  London,  to  which  it  belongs.  Poor 
East  London  !  It  had  one — only  one — ancient  and 
venerable  foundation,  and  they  have  wantonly  and 
uselessly  destroyed  it. 

Everybody  who  visits  London  goes  to  see  the  Tem- 
ple Church  and  the  courts  formerly  trodden  by  the 
Templars,  now  echoing  the  hurried  feet  of  lawyers 
and  their  clerks.  Their  beautiful  church,  however,  is 
that  of  the  new  Temple.  There  was  an  older  Temple 
than  this.  It  stood  at  the  north-east  corner  of  Chan- 
cery Lane.  It  was  certainly  some  kind  of  quadrangu- 
lar college  with  its  chapel,  its  hall,  its  courts,  and  its 
gardens.  When  the  Templars  moved  to  their  new 
quarters,  it  passed  into  other  hands  and  ceased  to  be 
a  monastic  place.  Some  of  its  buildings  survived  until 
the  sixteenth  century. 

Is  the  legend  of  St.  Mary  Overies  too  well-known  a 
story  to  be  retold?  Perhaps  there  are  some  readers 
who  have  not  read  the  Chronicles  of  London  Bridge, 
where  it  is  narrated. 

Long  years  ago,  before  there  was  any  London  Bridge 
at  all,  a  ferry  plied  across  the  river  between  what  is 


68 


LONDON 


now  Dowgate  Dock  and  that  now  called  St.  Saviour's 
Dock  —  both  of  which  exist  untouched,  save  that  the 
buildings  round  them  are  changed.  At  one  time  the 
ferry-master  —  he  appears  to  have  sat  at  home  and 
taken  the  money  while  his  servants  tugged  at  the  oar 
—was  one  Awdrey.  There  was  no  competition  in  the 
ferry  trade  of  the  time,  so  that  this  worthy  employer 
of  labor  grew  rich.  As  he  became  old,  however,  he 
fell  into  the  vice  common  to  rich  men  who  are  also 
old  —  that  is  to  say,  he  became  avaricious,  covetous, 

and  miserly;  he  suf- 
fered acutely  from 
this  failing,  in  so 
much  that  he  grudg- 
ed his  servants  their 
very  food.  This  mi- 
ser had  a  daughter, 
a  lovely  damsel 
named  Mary,  of 
whom  many  young 
knights  became  am- 
orous. To  one  of 
these  she  lost  her 
heart ;  and,  as  too 
commonly  happens, 
to  the  poorest,  a 
thing  which  her  fa- 
ther could  not  coun- 
tenance. The  knight, 
therefore,  not  being 
able  to  get  the  con- 
sent of  Awdrey  pere, 
removed  to  another 


DOWGATK   DOCK 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN  69 

place,  guarding  still  the  memory  of  his  Mary,  and 
still  beloved  by  her.  As  there  was  no  post  in  those 
days,  and  neither  could  write,  they  exchanged  no  let- 
ters, but  they  preserved  their  constancy  and  fidelity. 

Now  behold  what  may  happen  as  a  punishment  for 
avarice !  The  old  man  one  day,  devising  a  way  to 
save  a  few  meals — for  at  a  time  when  death  is  in  the 
house  who  can  think  upon  eating  and  drinking? — pre- 
tended that  he  was  dead,  and  laid  himself  out  with  a 
white  sheet  over  him.  Alas  !  He  was  cruelly  mistaken. 
His  servants,  learning  what  had  happened,  loudly  and 
openly  rejoiced,  stripped  the  larder  of  all  that  it  con- 
tained, set  the  casks  flowing,  opened  the  bottles,  and 
began  to  feast  and  sing.  It  was  more  than  the  old 
man  could  endure.  He  sprang  from  his  bed  and 
rushed  among  them ;  they  fled,  shrieking,  because 
they  thought  it  was  his  ghost ;  one,  bolder  than  the 
rest,  stood  his  ground  to  face  the  ghost,  and  banged 
the  apparition  over  the  head  with  the  butt-end  of  a 
broken  oar,  so  that  the  unlucky  ghost  fell  down  dead 
in  real  earnest.  What  happened  wh^n  they  came  to 
bury  him  may  be  read  in  the  book  above  referred  to. 

The  miser's  fortune  thereupon  devolved  upon  his 
daughter.  She  immediately  sent  for  her  lover,  who 
hastened  to  obey  his  mistress.  Alas !  on  his  way  the 
unlucky  knight  was  thrown  from  his  horse  and  was 
killed.  The  girl,  distracted  by  this  misfortune,  found- 
ed a  convent  of  sisters  at  the  south  end  of  the  ferry, 
and  taking  refuge  in  her  own  Foundation,  retired  from 
the  world.  Here  in  course  of  time  she  died.  Later 
on,  another  pious  lady  changed  the  convent  of  sisters 
to  a  college  of  priests,  and  very  early  in  the  twelfth 
century  two  Norman  knights,  named  Pont  de  1'Arche 


LONDON 


ST.  SAVIOUR'S  DOCK 

and  D'Ansey,  founded  here  a  great  priory,  of  which 
the  present  Church  of  St.  Saviour  was  then  the  chapel. 
The  Effigy  of  Pont  de  1'Arche  (or  perhaps  it  is  that 
of  his  friend  D'Ansey)  is  still  to  be  seen,  with  no  in- 
scription upon  it,  in  the  church.  The  chancel,  the 


SAXON  AND  NORMAN  71 

two  transepts,  and  the  Ladye  Chapel  now  remain  of 
the  old  church  with  its  later  additions,  and  at  this 
moment  they  are  rebuilding  the  nave  in  something 
like  the  former  style. 

"There  were  in  London,"  Fitz  Stephen  says,  "a 
hundred  and  twenty-six  parish  churches  besides  the 
cathedral  and  conventual  churches."  Whatever  the 
population  may  have  been,  the  City  has  never,  in  her 
most  crowded  days,  when  nearly  half  a  million  lived 
within  her  walls,  wanted  more  churches.  A  list  of 
them  may  be  found  in  Strype  and  Stow.  Some  of 
them — twenty-five,  I  think — were  never  rebuilt  after 
the  great  fire.  Many  of  them,  in  these  days,  have 
been  wantonly  and  wickedly  destroyed.  Most  of  the 
churches  were  doubtless  small  and  mean  buildings. 
Fortunately,  we  are  able  to  show,  by  th«  survival 
of  one  monument,  what  some  of  these  little  parish 
churches  of  London  were  like  in  the  Saxon  and  early 
Norman  times.  There  remains  at  Bradford-on-Avon, 
a  little  town  of  Wiltshire,  a  church  still  complete  save 
for  its  south  porch,  built  by  St.  Aldhelm  in  the  eighth 
century.  There  are  other  partly  Saxon  and  so-called 
Saxon  remains.  There  is  the  most  curious  church  of 
Greenstead  in  Essex,  whose  walls  are  trunks  of  oak- 
trees.  Perhaps  some  of  the  London  churches  may 
have  been  built  in  the  same  way,  but  it  is  more  prob- 
able that  the  piety  of  the  parishioners  made  them  of 
stone.1  The  accompanying  figure  shows  the  Bradford 
church.  It  is  very  small ;  the  plan  shows  the  arrange- 
ment of  nave,  chancel,  and  north  porch  ;  it  had  a  south 


1  Loftie  calls  attention  to  the  name  of  our  Church  St.  Mary  Staining, 
i.e.,  built  of  stone,  as  if  that  was  an  exceptional  thing. 


72  LONDON 

porch,  but  that  is  gone.  The  walls  are  of  thick  stone  ; 
the  nave  is  25  feet  2  inches  long,  and  13  feet  2  inches 
broad;  the  chancel  is  13  feet  2  inches  long,  and  10 
feet  broad.  The  height  of  the  nave  to  the  wall  plates 
is  25  feet  3  inches;  of  the  chancel  is  18  feet.  The 
chancel  opens  out  from  the  nave,  not  with  a  broad 
arch,  but  with  a  narrow  door  only  2  feet  4  inches 
broad  —  a  very  curious  arrangement.  The  doors  of 
the  south  and  north  porches  are  of  the  same  breadth. 
The  church  must  have  been  very  dark,  but,  then,  win- 
dows in  a  cold  climate,  if  you  have  no  glass,  must  be 
as  small  in  size  and  as  few  in  number  as  possible.  It 
was  lit  by  a  small  window7  in  the  eastern  wall  of  the 
north  porch,  no  doubt  by  another  in  the  south  porch, 
by  a  small  window  in  the  south  wall  of  the  nave  near 
the  chancel,  and  by  a  fourth  small  window  in  the 
south  wall  of  the  chancel,  so  placed  that  the  light,  and 
sometimes  the  sun,  should  fall  upon  the  altar  during 
celebration  of  mass.  The  church  was  thus  imperfect- 
ly lit  by  four  small  windows,  each  with  its  round  arch. 
The  people  knelt  on  the  stones  ;  there  were  no  chairs 
or  benches  for  them;  the  bareness  of  the  church  at 
the  present  day  is  just  what  it  was  at  first.  There  is 
no  tower.  Over  the  chancel  arch  are  sculptured  two 
angels.  Outside  the  church,  at  the  height  of  about 
ten  feet,  runs  a  course  of  round  arcades,  the  only  or- 
nament, unless  the  remains  of  some  engaged  pilasters 
on  the  inner  door  of  the  north  porch  be  counted  as 
ornament.  A  little  new  masonry  has  been  added 
within,  and  two  new  windows  have  been  cut  in  the 
northern  wall  for  the  purpose  of  giving  more  light. 
But  with  these  exceptions  the  church  is  exactly  as  it 
was  when  Aldhelm  reared  it  and  dedicated  it  to  St. 


SAXON  AND   NORMAN  75 

Laurence.  I  do  not  say  that  this  little  church  repre- 
sents all  the  Saxon  parish  churches  of  London,  but 
we  may  be  sure  that  it  represents  some,  and  we  know 
that  many  of  them,  even  after  they  had  been  rebuilt 
in  the  twelfth  century,  and  after  mediaeval  piety  had 
beautified  and  decorated  them,  remained  mean  and 
small.  In  the  matter  of  Saxon  churches  we  have  per- 
haps fewer  existing  specimens  than  we  have  of  the 
earlier  British  churches.  The  Church  of  St.  Mary  at 
Dover,  built  of  Roman  bricks  and  cement ;  part  of  St. 
Martin's,  Canterbury ;  and  the  little  Cornish  Church 
of  Perranazabuloe  belong  to  that  earlier  period.  But 
the  Church  of  St.  Laurence,  in  the  pretty  old  town  of 
Bradford-on-Avon,  is,  according  to  Professor  E.  A. 
Freeman,  the  one  surviving  old  English  church  in  the 
land. 

It  is  impossible  to  assign  a  date  for  the  foundation 
of  these  churches,  but  their  dedication  in  many  cases 
affords  a  limit  of  period  before  which  they  could  not 
have  been  built.  Thus,  there  are  three  churches  in 
London  named  after  St.  Olave.  This  king,  canonized 
because,  with  much  good  feeling,  he  left  off  attacking 
the  English,  died  at  the  end  of  the  tenth  century. 
These  churches  were  therefore  erected  in  or  after  the 
reign  of  Edward  the  Confessor.  There  are  two  named 
after  Dunstan,  which  gives  us  a  limit  to  their  dates. 
They  were  built  between  the  canonization  of  Dunstan 
and  the  Norman  Conquest,  because  after  the  conquest 
there  were  no  new  churches  consecrated  to  Saxon 
saints.  The  dedication  of  St.  Alban's  may  possibly 
mark  the  site  of  a  church  of  Roman  time,  as  may  also 
that  of  St.  Helen's,  named  after  Helena,  mother  of 
Constantine.  But  I  have  given  reasons  for  believing 


76  LONDON 

that  everything  Roman  perished  and  was  forgotten. 
The  churches  of  St.  Botolph,  St.  Swithin,  St.  Osyth, 
St.  Ethelburga,  already  mentioned,  indicate  a  Saxon 
foundation.  St.  Alphege  was  murdered  in  1012,  so 
that  his  church  must  have  been  built  between  1012 
and  1066.  One  or  two  dedications  are  obscure.  Why, 
for  instance,  was  a  church  dedicated  to  St.  Vedast  ? 
He  was  a  bishop  of  Arras,  who,  in  the  sixth  century, 


Scale 


PLAN  OF  SAXON  CHURCH,  BRADFORD-ON-AVON 


ft* 


confirmed  his  flock  in  the  faith  by  a  series  of  miracles 
quite  novel  and  startling.  But  who  brought  the  fame 
of  Vedast  and  the  history  of  his  miracles  to  the  heart 
of  London  City?  Traditionally,  the  two  oldest  church- 
es in  London  are  those  of  St.  Peter,  Cornhill,  which 
claims  a  Roman  origin,  and  St.  Martin's,  Ludgate 
Hill,  which  is  assigned  to  a  certain  British  Prince  Cad- 


SAXON  AND    NORMAN 


77 


SAXON   CHURCH,  SEVENTH   OR   EIGHTH   CENTURY,  BRADFORD-ON-AVON 

wallo.  Both  traditions  may  be  neglected.  In  the 
oldest  part  of  the  City,  that  along  the  river,  the 
churches,  as  I  have  already  mentioned,  are  mostly 
dedicated  to  the  Apostles.  Besides  the  churches,  all 
the  monuments  the  City  had  then  to  show  were  its 
wall,  its  Great  Tower,  one  or  two  smaller  towers,  and 
its  Bridge. 

The  original  building  of  the  bridge  cannot  be  dis- 
covered. As  long  as  we  know  anything  of  London, 
the  bridge  was  there.  For  a  long  time  it  was  a  bridge 
of  timber,  provided  with  a  fortified  gate — one  of  the 
gates  of  the  City.  In  the  year  1091  the  Chronicler  re- 
lates that  on  the  Feast  of  St.  Edmund,  the  Archbishop, 
at  hour  of  six,  a  dreadful  whirlwind  from  the  south- 
east, coming  from  Africa — thus  do  authors  in  all  ages 
seize  upon  the  opportunity  of  parading  their  knowl- 


78  LONDON 

edge — "  from  Africa !"  all  that  way  ! — blew  upon  the 
City,  and  overwhelmed  upwards  of  six  hundred  houses 
and  several  churches,  greatly  damaged  the  Tower,  and 
tore  away  the  roof  and  part  of  the  wall  of  St.  Mary  le 
Bow,  in  Cheapside.  During  the  same  storm  the  wa- 
ter in  the  Thames  rose  with  such  rapidity  and  in- 
creased so  violently  that  London  Bridge  was  entirely 
swept  away. 

The  bridge  was  rebuilt.  Two  years  afterwards  it 
narrowly  escaped  destruction  when  a  great  part  of  the 
City  was  destroyed  by  fire.  Forty  years  later.it  did 
meet  this  fate  in  the  still  greater  fire  of  1135.  It  was 
immediately  rebuilt,  but  I  suppose  hurriedly,  because 
thirty  years  later  it  had  to  be  constructed  anew. 

Among  the  clergy  of  London  was  then  living  one 
Peter,  chaplain  of  a  small  church  in  the  Poultry — 
where  Thomas  a  Becket  was  baptized  —  called  Cole- 
church.  This  man  was  above  all  others  skilled  in  the 
craft  and  mystery  of  bridge -building.  He  was  per- 
haps a  member  of  the  fraternity  called  the  Pontific 

(or  Bridge-building)  Broth- 
ers, who  about  this  time 
built  the  famous  bridges  at 
Avignon,  Pont  St.  Esprit, 
Cahors,  Saintes,  and  La 
Rochelle.  He  proposed  to 

SCULPTURED  ANGEL,  SAXON  CHURCH         build     a     StOHC      bridge      OVCr 

the  river.    In  order  to  raise 

money  for  this  great  enterprise,  offerings  were  asked 
and  contributed  by  king,  citizens,  and  even  the  country 
at  large.  The  list  of  contributors  was  written  out  on  a 
table  for  posterity,  and  preserved  in  the  Bridge  Chapel. 
This  bridge,  which  was  to  last  for  six  hundred  and 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN 


79 


fifty  years,  took  as  long  to  build  as  King  Solomon's 
Temple,  namely,  three -and -thirty  years.  Before  it 
was  finished  the  architect  lay  in  his  grave.  When  it 
was  completed,  the 
bridge  was  926  feet 
long,  and  40  feet  wide 
— Stow  says  30  feet ; 
it  stood  60  feet  above 
high  water;  it  con- 
tained a  drawbridge 
and  1 9  pointed  arches, 
with  massive  piers, 
varying  from  25  to  34 
feet  in  solidity,  raised 
upon  strong  elm  piles, 
covered  with  thick 
planks.  The  bridge 
was  curiously  irregu- 
lar; there  was  no  uni- 
formity in  the  breadth 
of  the  arches'  they  V1KW °F  INTERIOR  °F  SAXON  CHURCH' SHOWING 

VERY    REMARKABLE     CHANCEL     ARCH     AND 

varied   from   10  feet 


ENTRANCE 


to  32  feet.     Over  the 

tenth  and  longest  pier  was  erected  a  chapel,  dedicated 
to  the  youngest  saint  in  the  calendar,  St.  Thomas  of 
Canterbury.  The  erection  of  a  chapel  on  a  bridge  was 
by  no  means  uncommon.  Everybody,  for  instance, 
who  has  been  in  the  South  of  France  remembers 
the  double  chapel  on  the  broken  bridge  at  Avignon. 
Again,  a  chapel  was  built  on  the  bridge  at  Droit- 
wich,  in  Cheshire,  and  one  on  the  bridge  at  Wake- 
field,  in  Yorkshire.  Like  the  chapel  at  Avignon,  that 
of  London  Bridge  contained  an  upper  and  a  lower 


80  LONDON 

chapel ;  the  latter  was  built  in  the  pier  with  stairs, 
making  it  accessible  from  the  river.  The  bridge  gate 
at  the  southern  end  was  fortified  by  a  double  tower, 
and  there  was  also  a  tower  at  the  northern  end.  The 
wall,  or  parapet  of  the  bridge,  followed  the  line  of 
the  piers,  so  as  to  give  at  every  pier  additional  room. 
The  same  arrangement  used  to  be  seen  on  the  old 
bridge  at  Putney.  The  maintenance  of  this  important 
edifice  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Brethren  of  St.  Thomas 
of  the  Bridge. 

To  build  a  bridge  was  ever  accounted  a  good  work. 
Witness  the  lines  engraved  on  the  bridge  of  Culham: 

Off  alle  werkys  in  this  world  that  ever  were  wrought 
Holy  Churche  is  chefe — 

Another  blessid  besines  is  brigges  to  make, 

When  that  the  pepul  may  not  passe  after  greet  showers, 

Dole  it  is  to  drawe  a  dead  body  out  of  a  lake, 

That  was  fulled  in  a  fount  ston  and  a  felow  of  cures. 

The  citizens  have  always  regarded  London  Bridge 
with  peculiar  pride  and  affection.  There  was  no  other 
bridge  like  it  in  the  whole  country,  nor  any  which 
could  compare  with  it  for  strength  or  for  size.  I 
think,  indeed,  that  there  was  not  in  the  whole  of 
Europe  any  bridge  that  could  compare  with  it ;  for 
it  was  built  not  only  over  a  broad  river,  but  a  tidal 
river,  up  which  the  flood  rose  and  ebbed  with  great 
vehemence  twice  a  day.  Later  on  they  built  houses 
on  either  side,  but  at  first  the  way  was  clear.  The 
bridge  was  endowed  with  broad  lands ;  certain  monks, 
called  Brethren  of  St.  Thomas  on  the  Bridge,  were 


SAXON  AND   NORMAN  8 1 

charged  with  the  services  in  the  chapel,  and  with 
administering  the  revenues  for  the  maintenance  of 
the  fabric. 

The  children  made  songs  about  it.  One  of  their 
songs  to  which  they  danced  taking  hands  has  been 
preserved.  It  is  modernized,  and  one  knows  not  how 
old  it  is.  The  author  of  Chronicles  of  London  Bridge 
gives  it  at  full  length,  with,  the  music.  Here  are  two 
or  three  verses  : 

London  Bridge  is  broken  down, 

Dance  over  my  Lady  Lee ; 
London  Bridge  is  broken  down, 

With  a  gay  ladee. 

How  shall  we  build  it  up  again? 

Dance  over  my  Lady  Lee ; 
How  shall  we  build  it  up  again  ? 

With  a  gay  ladee. 

Build  it  up  with  stone  so  strong, 

Dance  over  my  Lady  Lee ; 
Huzza !    'twill  last  for  ages  long, 

With  a  gay  ladee. 

The  City  wall,  repaired  by  Alfred,  was  not  allowed 
to  fall  into  decay  again  for  the  next  seven  hundred 
years.  A  recent  discovery  proves  that  the  ditch  was 
more  ancient  than  had  been  thought.  But  by  the 
time  of  King  John  it  was  greatly  decayed  and  stop- 
ped up ;  in  his  reign  a  grand  restoration  of  the  ditch 
was  made  by  the  citizens.  Many  fragments  of  the 
wall  have  been  discovered  dotted  along  its  course, 
which  is  now  accurately  known,  and  can  be  traced. 
One  of  the  City  churches  has  a  piece  of  the  wall  it- 
6 


82 


LONDON 


self  under  its  north  wall.  In  the  church-yard  of  St. 
Alphege  there  remains  a  fragment ;  in  the  church-yard 
of  St.  Giles  there  is  a  bastion.  To  repair  the  wall  they 
seem  to  have  used  any  materials  that  offered.  Witness 


—  iVl***-^^ j:V-5         — -r-t*-- j — 1   X."    .-J^T  ~jSUf^^ 


FIRST  STONE   LONDON    BRIDGE,  BEGUN   A.D.   1176 


the  collection  of  capitals  and  pilasters  found  in  a 
piece  of  the  City  wall,  and  preserved  in  the  Guildhall. 
Witness,  also,  the  story  of  King  John,  who,  when  he 
wanted  stones  for  repairing  the  gates,  broke  down  the 
stone-houses  of  the  Jews,  robbed  their  coffers,  and  used 
.  the  stones  for  his  repairs.  When  Lud  Gate  was  pulled 
down  some  of  these  stones,  with  Hebrew  inscriptions, 
were  found,  but  I  believe  were  all  thrown  into  the 
Thames  at  London  Bridge. 

The  Tower  of  London,  until  William  Longchamp, 
A.D.  1190,  enclosed  it  with  a  wall  and  a  deep  ditch, 
consisted  of  nothing  but  the  great  White  Tower,  with 
its  halls  and  its  chapel  of  St.  John.  At  the  western 
end  of  the  wall,  where  is  now  Ludgate  Hill  Railway 
Station,  stood  a  smaller  tower  called  Montfichet.  On 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN  83 

the  opposite  bank  of  the  Fleet  stood  a  stronghold, 
which  afterwards  became  Bridewell  Palace,  and  cover- 
ed the  whole  site  of  the  broad  street  which  now  follows 
the  approach  to  Blackfriars  Bridge.  The  site  of  Tower 
Royal  is  preserved  in  the  street  of  that  name.  King 
Stephen  lodged  there.  It  was  afterwards  given  to 
the  Crown,  and  called  the  Queen's  Wardrobe.  And 
there  was  another  tower  in  Bucklersbury  called  Sernes 
Tower,  of  which  no  trace  remains. 

Of  great  houses  there  were  as  yet  but  few — Black- 
well  Hall,  if  it  then  stood,  would  be  called  Bassing- 
Hall — Aldermanbury,  the  predecessor  of  Guildhall, 
was  built  by  this  time;  and  we  hear  of  certain  great 
men  having  houses  in  the  City — Earl  Ferrars  in  Lom- 
bard Street  next  to  Allhallows  and  Pont  de  1'Arche 
in  Elbow  Lane,  Dowgate  Ward,  what  time  Henry  the 
First  was  King. 

The  water  supply  of  the  City  until  the  later  years 
of  the  thirteenth  century  was  furnished  by  the  Wai- 
brook,  the  Wells  or  Fleet  rivers,  and  the  springs  or 
fountains  outside  the  walls,  of  which  Stow  enumerates 
a  great  many.  I  suppose  that  the  two  streams  very 
early  became  choked  and  fouled  and  unfit  for  drink- 
ing. But  the  conduits  and  "  Bosses"  of  water  were  not 
commenced  till  nearly  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  cen-. 
tury.  Water-carts  carried  round  fresh  water,  bringing 
it  into  the  towrn  from  the  springs  and  wells  on  the 
north.  One  does  not  find,  however,  any  period  in  the 
history  of  London  when  the  citizens  desired  plain  cold 
water  as  a  beverage.  Beer  was  always  the  national 
drink ;  they  drank  small  ale  for  breakfast,  dinner,  and 
supper ;  when  they  could  get  it  they  drank  strong  ale. 
Of  water  for  washing  there  was  not  at  this  period  so 


84 


LONDON 


great  a  demand  as  at  present.  At  the  same  time  it  is 
not, true  to  say,  as  was  said  a  few  years  ago  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  that  for  eight  hundred  years  our 
people  did  not  wash  themselves.  All  through  the 
Middle  Ages  the  use  of  the  hot  bath  was  not  only 
common,  but  frequent,  and  in  the  case  of  the  better 
classes  was  almost  a  necessity  of  life. 

The  population  of  this  busy  city  is  tolerably  easy 
to  calculate.  The  astounding  statement  of  the  good 
Fitz  Stephen  that  London  could  turn  out  an  army  of 
20,000  horse  and  60,000  foot,  must  of  course,  be  dis- 
missed without  argument.  Some  minds  are  wholly  in- 
capable of  understanding  numbers.  Perhaps  Fitz 
Stephen  had  such  a  mind.  Perhaps  in  writing  the 


CRYPT   OR    LOWER   CHAPBL   OF  ST.  THOMAS'S   CHURCH,  LONDON    BRIDGE 

numerals  the  numbers  got  multiplied  by  ten — Roman 
numerals  are  hard  to  manage.  If  we  assume  an  aver- 
age of  400  for  each  parish  church,  which,  considering 
that  the  church  was  used  daily  by  the  people,  seems 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN 


not  too  little,  we  get  a  population  of  about  50,000. 
In  the  time  of  Richard's  poll  tax,  300  years  later,  the 
population  was  about  40,000.  But  then  the  City  had 
been  ravaged  by  a  succession  of  plagues. 

The  strength  of  the  town  and  the  power  of  the  cit- 
izens is  abundantly  proved  by  the  chronicles.  In  the 
year  994,  Aulaf  and  Swegen  came  to  fight  against  Lon- 
don with  ninety-four  ships;  but  "they  there  sustain- 
ed more  harm  and  evil 
than  they  ever  imagined 
that  any  townsmen  would 
be  able  to  do  unto  them." 
Early  in  the  eleventh  cen- 
tury the  Londoners  beat 
off  the  Danes  again  and 
again.  Nor  did  the  citi- 
zens abandon  their  king 
until  he  abandoned  them. 
Later  on,  Edmund  Eth- 
eling  had  to  abandon  his 
enterprise  against  Cnut, 
because  the  Londoners 
would  not  join  him.  Then 
there  is  the  story  about 

the  body  of  the  murdered  Alphege,  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  This  had  been  deposited  in  St.  Paul's 
Cathedral.  Agelnoth,  successor  to  Alphege,  begged 
the  body  of  Cnut  for  Canterbury.  Cnut  granted  the 
request,  but  was  afraid — timebat  civium  inter ruptiones 
— to  take  away  the  body  except  by  stealth.  He  there- 
fore caused  his  huscarles,  or  household  soldiers,  to 
disperse  themselves,  and  to  raise  tumults  at  the  gates 
and  elsewhere.  While  the  citizens  were  running 


WEST    FRONT   OF   CHAPEL   ON 
LONDON    BRIDGE 


86  LONDON 

everywhere  to  enjoy  a  share  in  the  fight,  the  body 
was  carried  to  the  river  and  placed  in  a  boat,  which 
was  rowed  in  all  haste  down  the  river.  The  towns- 
men sent  out  a  party  in  pursuit.  And,  as  everybody 
knows,  William  the  Norman  found  it  politic  or  neces- 
sary to  confirm  the  liberties  and  laws  of  London. 

The  house,  either  in  Saxon  and  Norman  time,  pre- 
sented no  kind  of  resemblance  to  the  Roman  villa.  It 
had  no  cloisters,  no  hypocaust,  no  suite  or  sequence  of 
rooms.  This  unlikeness  is  another  proof,  if  any  were 
wanting,  that  the  continuity  of  tenure  had  been  wholly 
broken.  If  the  Saxons  went  into  London,  as  has  been 
suggested,  peaceably,  and  left  the  people  to  carry  on 
their  old  life  and  their  trade  in  their  own  way,  the 
Roman  and  British  architecture,  no  new  thing,  but  a 
style  grown  up  in  course  of  years  and  found  fitted  to 
the  climate,  would  certainly  have  remained.  That, 
however,  was  not  the  case.  The  Englishman  devel- 
oped his  house  from  the  patriarchal  idea.  First,  there 
was  the  common  hall ;  in  this  the  household  lived, 
fed,  transacted  business,  and  made  their  cheer  in  the 
evenings.  It  was  built  of  timber,  and  to  keep  out  the 
cold  draughts  it  was  afterwards  lined  with  tapestry.  At 
first  they  used  simple  cloths,  which  in  great  houses 
were  embroidered  and  painted ;  perches  of  various 
kinds  were  affixed  to  the  walls  whereon  the  weapons, 
the  musical  instruments,  the  cloaks,  etc.,  were  hung 
up.  The  lord  and  lady  sat  on  a  high  seat :  not,  I  am 
inclined  to  think,  on  a  dais  at  the  end  of  the  hall, 
which  would  have  been  cold  for  them,  but  on  a  great 
chair  near  the  fire,  which  was  burning  in  the  middle 
of  the  hall.  This  fashion  long  continued.  I  have  my- 
self seen  a  college  hall  warmed  by  a  fire  in  a  brazier 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN  87 

burning  under  the  lantern  of  the  hall.  The  furniture 
consisted  of  benches ;  the  table  was  laid  on  trestles, 
spread  with  a  white  cloth,  and  removed  after  dinner ; 
the  hall  was  open  to  all  who  came,  on  condition  that 
the  guest  should  leave  his  weapons  at  the  door.  The 
floor  was  covered  with  reeds,  which  made  a  clean,  soft, 
and  warm  carpet,  on  which  the  company  could,  if  they 
pleased,  lie  round  the  fire.  They  had  carpets  or  rugs 
also,  but  reeds  were  commonly  used.  The  traveller 
who  chances  to  find  himself  at  the  ancient  and  most 
interesting  town  of  Kingston-on-Hull,  which  very  few 
English  people,  and  still  fewer  Americans,  have 
the  curiosity  to  explore,  should  visit  the  Trinity 
House.  There,  among  many  interesting  things,  he 
will  find  a  hall  where  reeds  are  still  spread,  but  no 
longer  so  thickly  as  to  form  a  complete  carpet.  I 
believe  this  to  be  the  last  survival  of  the  reed  car- 
pet. The  times  of  meals  were  :  the  breakfast  at  about 
nine;  the  "noon-meat,"  or  dinner,  at  twelve;  and  the 
"  even  -  meat,"  or  supper,  probably  at  a  movable  time, 
depending  on  the  length  of  the  day.  When  lighting 
was  costly  and  candles  were  scarce,  the  hours  of  sleep 
would  be  naturally  longer  in  winter  than  in  the  sum- 
mer. In  their  manner  of  living  the  Saxons  were  fond 
of  vegetables,  especially  of  the  leek,  onion,  and  garlic. 
Beans  they  also  had  (these  were  introduced  probably 
at  the  time  when  they  commenced  intercourse  with 
the  outer  world),  pease,  radishes,  turnips,  parsley,  mint, 
sage,  cress,  rue,  and  other  herbs.  They  had  nearly  all 
our  modern  fruits,  though  many  show  by  their  names, 
which  are  Latin  or  Norman,  a  later  introduction. 
They  made  use  of  butter,  honey,  and  cheese.  They 
drank  ale  and  mead.  The  latter  is  still  made,  but 


88 


LONDON 


PART  OF  LONDON  WALL  IN  THE  CHURCH-YARD  OF  ST.   GILES,  CRIPPLEGATE 


in  small  quantities,  in  Somerset  and  Hereford  shires. 
The  Normans  brought  over  the  custom  of  drinking 
wine. 

In  the  earliest  times  the  whole  family  slept  in  the 
common  hall.  The  first  improvement  was  the  erection 
of  the  solar,  or  upper,  chamber.  This  was  above  the 
hall,  or  a  portion  of  it,  or  over  the  kitchen  and  buttery 
attached  to  the  hall.  The  arrangement  may  be  still 
observed  in  many  of  the  old  colleges  of  Oxford  or 
Cambridge.  The  solar  was  first  the  sleeping-room  of 
the  lord  and  lady  :  though  afterwards  it  served  not 
only  this  purpose,  but  also  for  an  ante -chamber  to 
the  dormitory  of  the  daughters  and  the  maid -serv- 
ants. The  men  of  the  household  still  slept  in  the 
hall  below.  Later  on,  bed  recesses  were  contrived  in 
the  wall,  as  one  may  find  in  Northumberland  at  the 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN  89 

present  day.  The  bed  was  commonly,  but  not  for  the 
ladies  of  the  house,  merely  a  big  bag  stuffed  with 
straw.  A  sheet  wrapped  round  the  body  formed  the 
only  night-dress.  But  there  were  also  pillows,  blank- 
ets, and  coverlets.  The  early  English  bed  was  quite 
as  luxurious  as  any  that  followed  after,  until  the  in- 
vention of  the  spring-mattress  gave  a  new  and  hither- 
to unhoped-for  joy  to  the  hours  of  night. 

The  second  step  in  advance  was  the  ladies'  bower, 
a  room  or  suite  of  rooms  set  apart  for  the  ladies  of 
the  house  and  their  women.  For  the  first  time,  as  soon 
as  this  room  was  added,  the  women  could  follow  their 
own  avocations  of  embroidery,  spinning,  and  needle- 
work of  all  kinds  apart  from  the  rough  and  noisy  talk 
of  the  men. 

The  main  features,  therefore,  of  every  great  house, 
whether  in  town  or  country,  from  the  seventh  to  the 
twelfth  century,  were  the  hall,  the  solar,  built  over 
the  kitchen  and  buttery,  and  the  ladies'  bower. 

There  was  also  the  garden.  In  all  times  the  Eng- 
lish have  been  fond  of  gardens.  Bacon  thought  it 
not  beneath  his  dignity  to  order  the  arrangement  of  a 
garden.  Long  before  Bacon,  a  writer  of  the  twelfth 
century  describes  a  garden  as  it  should  be.  "  It  should 
be  adorned  on  this  side  with  roses,  lilies,  and  the  mari- 
gold ;  on  that  side  with  parsley,  cost,  fennel,  southern- 
wood, coriander,  sage,  savery,  hyssop,  mint,  vine,  det- 
tany,  pellitory,  lettuce,  cresses,  and  the  peony.  Let 
there  be  beds  enriched  with  onions,  leeks,  garlic,  mel- 
lons,  and  scallions.  The  garden  is  also  enriched  by 
the  cucumber,  the  soporiferous  poppy,  and  the  daffo- 
dil, and  the  acanthus.  Nor  let  pot  herbs  be  wanting, 
as  beet-root,  sorrel,  and  mallow.  It  is  useful  also  to 


LONDON 


the  gardener  to  have  anice,  mustard,  and  wormwood. 
...  A  noble  garden  will  give  you  medlars,  quinces, 
the  pear  main,  peaches,  pears  of  St.  Regie,  pomegran- 
ates, citrons,  oranges,  almonds,  dates,  and  figs."  The 
latter  fruits  were  perhaps  attempted,  but  no  one 
doubts  their  arriving  at  ripeness.  Perhaps  the  writer 
sets  down  what  he  hoped  would  be  some  day  achieved. 
The  in-door  amusements  of  the  time  were  very  much 
like  our  own.  We  have  a  little  music  in  the  evening ; 
so  did  our  forefathers ;  we  sometimes  have  a  little 
dancing ;  so  did  they,  but  the  dancing  was  done  for 

them ;  we  go  to  the 
theatres  to  see  the 
mime ;  in  their  days 
the  mime  made  his 
theatre  in  the  great 
man's  hall.  He  play- 
ed the  fiddle  and  the 
harp  ;  he  sang  songs  ; 
he  brought  his  daugh- 
ter, who  walked  on  her 

hands  and  executed  astonishing  capers;  the  gfeeman, 
minstrels,  or  jongleur  was  already  as  disreputable  as 
when  we  find  him  later  on  with  his  ribauderie.  Again, 
we  play  chess;  so  did  our  ancestors;  we  gamble  with 
dice;  so  did  they;  we  feast  and  drink  together;  so  did 
they;  we  pass  the  time  in  talk;  so  did  they.  In  a 
word,  as  Alphonse  Karr  put  it,  the  more  we  change, 
the  more  we  remain  the  same. 

Out-of-doors,  as  Fitz  Stephen  shows,  the  young  men 
skated,  wrestled,  played  ball,  practised  archery,  held 
water  tournaments,  baited  bull  and  bear,  fought  cocks, 
and  rode  races.  They  were  also  mustered  sometimes 


ENTRANCE   TO    KNIGHTS    HOSPITALLERS 


SAXON   AND    NORMAN 


for  service  in  the  field,  and  went  forth  cheerfully,  be- 
ing specially  upheld  by  the  reassuring  consciousness 
that  London  was  always  on  the  winning  side. 

The  growth  of  the  city  government  belongs  to  the 
history  of  London.     Suffice  it  here  to  say  that  the 
people  in  all  times  enjoyed  a  freedom  far  above  that 
possessed  by  any  other  city  of 
Europe.     The   history  of  mu- 
nicipal London  is  a  history  of 
continual  struggle  to  maintain 
this  freedom  against  all  attacks, 
and  to  extend  it  and  to  make 
it   impregnable.     Already   the 
people    are    proud,   turbulent, 
and    confident    in    their    own 
strength.     They  refuse  to  own     » 
any  over  lord    but.  the  King     g 
himself;    there   is   no   Earl   of     f 
London.     They   freely  hold     3 
their  free  and  open  meetings —     2 
their  Folk's  mote — in  the  open     | 
space   outside  the  north-west     | 
corner    of    St.    Paul's   Church-     jjj 
yard.    That  they  lived  roughly,     5 
enduring  cold,  sleeping  in  small 
houses  in  narrow  courts ;  that 
they  suffered   much   from  the 
long  darkness  of  winter;   that 
they  were  always  in  danger  of 
fevers,  agues,  "  putrid  "  throats, 
plagues,  fires  by  night,  and  civil 
wars;  that  they  were  ignorant 
of  letters — three  schools  only 


92  LONDON 

for  the  whole  of  London — all  this  may  very  well  be 
understood.  But  these  things  do  not  make  men  and 
women  wretched.  They  were  not  always  suffering 
from  preventable  disease ;  they  were  not  always  haul- 
ing their  goods  out  of  the  flames ;  they  were  not  al- 
ways fighting.  The  first  and  most  simple  elements 
of  human  happiness  are  three,  to  wit :  that  a  man 
should  be  in  bodily  health,  that  he  should  be  free, 
that  he  should  enjoy  the  produce  of  his  own  labor. 
All  these  things  the  Londoner  possessed  under  the 
Norman  kings  nearly  as  much  as  in  these  days  they 
can  be  possessed.  His  city  has  always  been  one  of 
the  healthiest  in  the  world.  Whatever  freedom  could 
be  attained  he  enjoyed,  and  in  that  rich  trading  town 
all  men  who  worked  lived  in  plenty. 

The  households,  the  way  of  living,  the  occupations 
of  the  women,  can  be  clearly  made  out  in  every  detail 
from  the  Anglo-Saxon  literature.  The  women  in  the 
country  made  the  garments,  carded  the  wool,  sheared 
the  sheep,  washed  the  things,  beat  the  flax,  ground 
the  corn,  sat  at  the  spinning-wheel,  and  prepared  the 
food.  In  the  towns  they  had  no  shearing  to  do,  but 
all  the  rest  of  their  duty  fell  to  their  province.  The 
English  women  excelled  in  embroidery.  "  English  " 
work  meant  the  best  kind  of  work.  They  worked 
church  vestments  with  gold  and  pearls  and  precious 
stones.  "  Orfrey,"  or  embroidery  in  gold,  was  a  special 
art.  Of  course  they  are  accused  by  the  ecclesiastics  of 
an  overweening  desire  to  wear  finery;  they  certainly 
curled  their  hair,  and,  one  is  sorry  to  read,  they  painted, 
and  thereby  spoiled  their  pretty  cheeks.  If  the  man 
was  the  hlaf-ord  —  the  owner  or  winner  of  the  loaf — 
the  wife  was  the  hlaf-dig,  its  distributor ;  the  servants 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN  93 

and  the  retainers  were  hlaf-oetas,  or  eaters  of  it. 
When  nunneries  began  to  be  founded,  the  Saxon 
ladies  in  great  numbers  forsook  the  world  for  the  clois- 
ter. And  here  they  began  to  learn  Latin,  and  be- 
came able  at  least  to  carry  on  correspondence — speci- 
mens of  which  still  exist  —  in  that  language.  Every 
nunnery  possessed  a  school  for  girls.  They  were 
taught  to  read  and  to  write  their  own  language  and 
Latin,  perhaps  also  rhetoric  and  embroidery.  As  the 
pious  Sisters  were  fond  of  putting  on  violet  chemises, 
tunics,  and  vests  of  delicate  tissue,  embroidered  with 
silver  and  gold,  and  scarlet  shoes,  there  was  probably 
not  much  mortification  of  the  flesh  in  the  nunneries 
of  the  later  Saxon  times. 

This  for  the  better  class.  We  cannot  suppose  that 
the  daughters  of  the  craftsmen  became  scholars  of  the 
Nunnery.  Theirs  were  the  lower  walks — to  spin  the 
linen  and  to  make  the  bread  and  carry  on  the  house- 
work. 

Let  us  walk  into  the  narrow  streets  and  see  some- 
thing more  closely  of  the  townfolk.  We  will  take  the 
close  net-work  of  streets  south  of  Paul's  and  the  Cheap- 
side,  where  the  lanes  slope  down  to  the  fiver.  North 
of  Chepe  there  are  broad  open  spaces  never  yet  built 
upon;  south,  every  inch  of  ground  is  valuable.  The 
narrow  winding  lanes  are  lined  with  houses  on  either 
side ;  they  are  for  the  most  part  houses  with  wooden 
fronts  and  roofs  of  timber.  Here  and  there  is  a  stone 
house ;  here  and  there  the  great  house  of  a  noble,  or 
of  a  City  baron,  or  a  great  merchant,  as  greatness  is 
counted.  But  as  yet  the  trade  of  London  goes  not 
farther  than  Antwerp,  or  Sluys,  or  Bordeaux  at  the 


94  LONDON 

farthest.  Some  of  the  houses  stand  in  gardens,  but 
in  this  part,  where  the  population  is  densest,  most  of 
the  gardens  have  become  courts;  and  in  the  courts 
where  the  poorest  live,  those  who  are  the  porters  and 
carriers,  and  lightermen  and  watermen — the  servants 
of  the  Port  —  the  houses  are  huts,  not  much  better 
than  those  whose  ruins  may  still  be  seen  on  Dart- 
moor; of  four  uprights,  with  wattle  and  clay  for  walls, 
and  a  thatched  roof,  and  a  fire  burning  on  the  floor  in 
the  middle.  At  the  corners  of  the  streets  are  laystalls, 
where  everything  is  flung  to  rot  and  putrefy ;  the 
streets  are  like  our  country  lanes,  narrow  and  muddy; 
public  opinion  is  against  shooting  rubbish  into  the 
street, but  it  is  done;  the  people  walk  gingerly  among 
the  heaps  of  offal  and  refuse.  In  the  wooden  houses, 
standing  with  shutters  and  doors  wide  open  all  the 
year  round,  sit  the  men  at  work,  each  in  his  own  trade, 
working  for  his  own  master;  every  man  belongs  to  his 
guild,  which  is  as  yet  religious.  Here  is  a  church,  the 
Church  of  St.  George,  Botolph  Lane ;  the  doors  are 
open ;  the  bells  are  ringing ;  the  people  are  crowding 
in.  Let  us  enter.  It  is  a  Mystery  that  they  are  going 
to  play — nothing  less  than  the  Raising  of  Lazarus  ac- 
cording to  Holy  Scripture.  The  church  within  is  dark 
and  gloomy,  but  there  is  light  enough  to  see  the  plat- 
form, or  low  stage,  under  the  nave  covered  with  red 
cloth,  which  has  been  erected  for  the  Play.  The 
actors  are  young  priests  and  choristers.  All  round 
the  stage  stand  the  people,  the  men  in  leather  jerkins 
— they  do  not  remove  their  caps — the  women  in  wool- 
len frocks,  the  children  with  eyes  wide  open.  When 
the  Play  begins  they  all  weep  without  restraint  at  the. 
moving  passages.  In  the  first  scene  Lazarus  lies  on 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN 


95 


CRYPT   IN    BOW   CHURCH,  FROM    THE   NORTH   SIDE,  NEAR   THE   EAST   END 
OF   THE   NAVE 

his  bed,  at  the  point  of  death — weak,  faint,  speechless. 
He  is  attended  by  his  friends  —  four  Jews,  attired  in 
realistic  fashion,  no  mistake  about  their  nationality — 
infidels,  mecreants — and  by  his  sisters  twain,  marvel- 
lously like  two  nuns  of  the  period.  They  send  a  mes- 
senger to  the  new  Great  Physician  and  Worker  of 
Miracles,  who  is  reported  to  be  preaching  and  healing 
not  far  off.  But  He  delays;  Lazarus  dies.  His  sister 
goes  to  reproach  the  Physician  with  the  delay,  wailing 
and  lamenting  her  brother's  death.  At  length  He 
comes.  Lazarus  is  already  buried.  The  tomb  is  on 
the  stage,  with  the  dead  man  inside.  Jesus  calls.  Oh, 


96  LONDON 

• 

miracle!  we  saw  him  die;  we  saw  him  buried.  Lo ! 
he  rises  and  comes  forth  from  the  grave.  To  the 
people  it  is  as  if  the  Lord  Jesus  himself  stood  before 
them ;  they  have  seen  Him  with  their  own  eyes ; 
henceforth  the  name  of  the  Lord  recalls  a  familiar 
form ;  experienced  persons  of  dull  imagination  say 
that  this  is  not  Jesus  at  all,  but  Stephen  the  Deacon — 
he  with  the  heavenly  voice  and  the  golden  locks.  No, 
no ;  it  is  not  Stephen  they  have  seen,  but  Another. 
So,  also,  some  will  have  it  that  the  man  who  died  and 
was  buried,  and  rose  again,  and  stood  before  them  all 
in  white  cerements,  was  John  of  Hoggesdon,  Chantry 
Priest.  Not  so  ;  it  was  Lazarus — none  other.  Lazarus, 
now  no  doubt  a  blessed  saint,  with  his  two  sisters, 
Martha  and  Mary.  Why  !  it  must  have  been  Lazarus, 
because,  after  the  miracle,  he  called  upon  the  people 
to  mark  the  wondrous  works  of  the  Lord,  and  sang 
the  Magnificat  so  that  the  psalm  echoed  in  the  roof  and 
rolled  above  the  pillars.  He  sang  that  psalm  out  of 
pure  gratitude ;  you  could  see  the  tears  rolling  down 
his  cheeks;  and  in  worship  and  adoration,  Lazarus  him- 
self, he  who  had  been  dead  and  had  come  to  life  again. 
The  Mystery  is  over;  the  people  have  all  gone 
away ;  the  stage  is  removed,  and  the  church  is  empty 
again.  Two  priests  are  left,  and  their  talk  is  like  a 
jarring  note  after  sweet  music.  "  Brother,"  says  one, 
"  were  it  not  for  such  shows  as  these,  if  we  did  not 
present  to  the  people  the  things  which  belong  to  re- 
ligion in  such  a  way  that  the  dullest  can  understand, 
the  Church  would  be  in  a  parlous  way.  All  folk  cry 
out  upon  the  profligacy  of  the  monks,  and  their 
luxury,  and  the  greed  of  the  priests.  What  sayeth 
Walter  Map,  that  good  archdeacon  ? 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN  97 

•"Omnis  a  clericis  fluit  enormitas, 
Cum  Deo  debeant  mentes  sollicitas, 
Tractant  negotia  mercesque  vetitas 
Et  rerum  turpium  vices  indebitas.'  " 

"  I  hear,"  said  the  other,  "  that  two  Cistercians  have 
lately  become  apostate  to  the  Jews." 

"  Rather,"  replied  the  first,  "  they  should  have  be- 
come Christians,  so  to  separate  themselves  the  better 
from  that  accursed  body." 

These  are  the  distant  rumblings  of  the  gathering 
storm.  But  the  Church  will  become  much  richer,  much 
more  powerful,  the  monks  will  become  much  more 


INTERIOR    OF    PORCH   OF   THE    PARISH    CHURCH    OF   ST.   ALHHEGJI, 
LONDON  WALL,  FORMERLY  THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  PRIORY  OP  ST.  ELSYNGB  SPITAL 

7 


98  LONDON 

profligate,  the  priests  will  become   far  more  greedy 
before  things  grow  to  be  intolerable. 

It  is  an  evening  in  May.  What  means  this  pro- 
cession ?  Here  comes  a  sturdy  rogue  marching  along 
valiantly,  blowing  pipe  and  beating  tabor.  After  him, 
a  rabble  rout  of  lads  and  young  men,  wearing  flowers 
in  their  caps,  and  bearing  branches  and  singing  lust- 
ily. This  is  what  they  sing,  not  quite  in  these  words, 
but  very  nearly : 

Sumer  is  icumen  in, 
Lhude  sing  cuccu ! 
Groweth  sed  and  bloweth  med, 
And  springth  the  wde  nu. 
Sing  cuccu. 

Awe  bleteth  after  lamb, 

Llouth  after  calve  cu, 
Bulluc  sterteth,  buck  verteth, 

Murie  sing  cuccu ! 

Cuccu,  cuccu,  well  singeth  thu  cuccu, 

Ne  swik  thu  navu  nu ; 
Sing  cuccu,  cuccu,  nu  sing  cuccu, 

Sing  cuccu,  sing  cuccu,  nu ! 

The  workman  jumps  up  and  shouts  as  they  go 
past ;  the  priest  and  the  friar  laugh  and  shout ;  the 
girls,  gathering  together  as  is  the  maidens'  way,  laugh 
and  clap  their  hands.  The  young  men  sing  as  they 
go  and  dance  as  they  sing.  Spring  has  come  back 
again — sing  cuckoo  ;  the  days  of  light  and  warmth — 
sing  cuckoo;  the  time  of  feasting  and  of  love  —  sing 
cuckoo.  The  proud  abbot,  with  his  following,  draws 
rein  to  let  them  pass,  and  laughs  to  see  them ;  he  is, 
you  see,  a  man  first  and  a  monk  afterwards.  In  the 
gateway  of  his  great  house  stands  the  Norman  earl 


SAXON   AND   NORMAN  99 

with  his  livery.  He  waits,  to  let  the  London  youth 
go  by.  The  earl  scorns  the  English  youth  no  longer; 
he  knows  their  lustihood.  He  can  even  understand 
their  speech.  He  sends  out  largesse  to  the  lads  to 
be  spent  in  the  good  wines  of  Gascony  and  of  Spain ; 
he  joins  in  the  singing ;  he  waves  his  hand,  a  brother- 
ly hand,  as  the  floral  greenery  passes  along ;  he  sings 
with  them  at  the  top  of  his  voice : 

Sing  cuccu — cuccu — nu  sing  cuccu  ; 
Sing  cuccu  ;   sing  cuccu,  nu. 

Presently  the  evening  falls.  It  is  light  till  past  eight; 
the  days  are  long.  At  nightfall,  in  summer,  the  peo- 
ple go  to  bed.  In  the  great  houses  they  assemble  in 
the  hall ;  in  winter  they  would  listen  to  music  and 
the  telling  of  stories,  even  the  legends  of  King  Ar- 
thur. Walter  Map '  will  collect  them  and  arrange  them, 
and  the  French  romances,  such  as  "  Amis  et  Amils," 
"  Aucassin  et  Nicolette,"  though  these  have  not  yet 
been  written  down.  In  summer  they  have  music  be- 
fore they  go  to  bed.  We  are  in  a  city  that  has  always 
been  fond  of  music.  The  noise  of  crowd  and  pipe, 
tabor  and  cithern,  is  now  silent  in  the  streets.  Rich 
men  kept  their  own  musicians.  What  said  Bishop  Gros- 

setete  ? 

Next  hys  chamber,  besyde  hys  study, 
Hys  harper's  chamber  was  fast  ther  by, 
Many  tymes,  by  nightes  and  dayes, 
He  hade  solace  of  notes  and  layes. 
One  asked  him  the  resun  why 
He  hadde  delyte  in  minstrelsy? 
He  answered  hym  on  thys  manere 
Why  he  helde  the  harpe  so  dere : 

1  Morley's  English  Writers,  vol.  i. ,  p.  760. 


100  LONDON 

The  virtu  of  the  harpe  thurh  skill  and  right 
Wyll  destrye  the  fendys  myght, 
And  to  the  cros  by  gode  skeyl 
Ys  the  harpe  lykened  weyl. 

He  who  looks  and  listens  for  the  voice  of  the  peo- 
ple in  these  ancient  times  hears  no  more  than  a  con- 
fused murmur:  one  sees  a  swarm  working  like  ants;' 
a  bell  rings:  they  knock  off  work;  another  bell:  they 
run  together;  they  shout;  they  wave  their  hats;  the 
listener,  however,  hears  no  words.  It  is  difficult  in  any 
age — even  in  the  present  day — to  learn  or  understand 
what  the  bas  peuple  think  and  what  they  desire.  They 
want  few  things  indeed  in  every  generation  ;  only,  as  I 
said  above,  the  three  elements  of  freedom,  health,  and 
just  pay.  Give  them  these  three  and  they  will  grum- 
ble no  longer.  When  a  poet  puts  one  of  them  on  his 
stage  and  makes  him  act  and  makes  him  speak,  we 
learn  the  multitude  from  the  type.  Later  on,  .after 
Chaucer  and  Piers  Ploughman  have  spoken,  we  know 
the  people  better ;  as  yet  we  guess  at  them,  we  do 
not  even  know  them  in  part.  Observe,  however,  one 
thing  about  London  —  a  thing  of  great  significance. 
When  there  is  a  Jacquerie,  when  the  people,  who 
have  hitherto  been  as  silent  as  the  patient  ox,  rise 
with  a  wild  roar  of  rage,  it  is  not  in  London.  Here 
men  have  learned — however  imperfectly — the  lesson 
that  only  by  combination  of  all  for  the  general  wel- 
fare is  the  common  weal  advanced.  I  think,  also, 
that  London  men,  even  those  on  the  lowest  levels, 
have  always  known  very  well  that  their  humility  of 
place  is  due  to  their  own  lack  of  purpose  and  self- 
restraint.  The  air  of  London  has  always  been  charged 
with  the  traditions  and  histories  of  those  who  have 


THE    ARMS    AND   SEALS    OF   THE    PRIOR    AND   CONVENT   OF   ST.    SAVIOUR    AT    BERMONDSEY 


SAXON  AND    NORMAN  103 

raised  themselves;  there  never  has  been  a  city  more 
generous  to  her  children,  more  ready  to  hold  out  a 
helping  hand  ;  this  we  shall  see  illustrated  later  on  ;  at 
present  all  is  beginning.  The  elementary  three  con- 
ditions are  felt,  but  not  yet  put  into  words. 

We  are  at  present  in  the  boyhood  of  a  city  which 
after  a  thousand  years  is  still  in  its  strong  and  vigor- 
ous manhood,  showing  no  sign,  not  the  least  sign,  of 
senility  or  decay.  Rather  does  it  appear  like  a  city 
in  its  first  spring  of  eager  youth.  But  the  real  work 
for  Saxon  and  Norman  London  lies  before.  It  is 
to  come.  It  is  a  work  which  is  to  be  the  making  of 
Great  Britain  and  of  America,  Australia,  and  the  Isles. 
It  is  the  work  of  building  up,  defending,  and  consoli- 
dating the  liberties  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race. 

They  were  not  wretched  at  all,  these  early  London 
citizens ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  joyous  and  happy  and 
hopeful.  And  not  only  for  the  reasons  already  stated, 
but  for  the  great  fact — the  greatest  fact  of  the  time 
— of  their  blind  and  unreasoning  faith.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  exaggerate  the  importance  of  unreasoning 
faith  as  a  factor  in  human  happiness.  The  life  of  the 
meanest  man  was  full  of  dignity  and  of  splendor,  be- 
cause of  the  great  inheritance  assured  to  him  by  the 
Church.  We  must  never  leave  out  the  Church  in 
speaking  of  the  past.  We  must  never  forget  that  all 
people,  save  here  and  there  a  doubting  Rufus  or  a  ques- 
tioning Prince  of  Anjou,  believed  without  the  shadow 
of  any  doubt.  Knowledge  brought  the  power  of  ques- 
tioning. As  yet  there  was  no  knowledge.  There- 
fore every  man's  life,  however  miserable,  was,  to  his 
happy  ignorance,  the  certain  ante- room  of  heaven. 
We  are  fond  of  dwelling  on  the  mediaeval  hell,  the 


104  LONDON 

stupidity  and  the  brutality  of  its  endless  torture,  and 
the  selfishness  of  buying  salvation  by  masses.  Hell, 
my  friends,  was  always  meant  for  the  other  man.  He 
who  saw  the  devils  painted  on  the  church-wall,  rend- 
ing, tearing,  frying,  cutting,  burning  the  poor  souls 
in  hell,  knew  these  souls  for  those  of  his  enemies. 
Like  Dante,  he  saw  among  them  all  his  public  and 
his  private  foes.  He  looked  upward  for  his  hope. 
There  he  beheld  loving  angels  bearing  aloft  in  their 
soft  arms  the  soul  redeemed  to  the  abode  of  perfect 
bliss.  .  In  that  soul  he  recognized  himself ;  he  saw  the 
portraiture,  exact  and  lifelike,  of  his  own  features. 

When  the  ambassadors  of  the  Caliph  Haroun  al 
Raschid  brought  gifts  to  the  great  King  Karl,  the 
finest  thing  he  had  to  show  them  was  the  splendid 
service  of  the  Church. 

This  story  is  told  literally.  It  might  be  told  as  an 
allegory.  In  London  Saxon  and  Norman,  as  also  for 
many  centuries  to  follow,  the  finest  thing  they  had  to 
show  was  the  Church,  with  its  music  that  moved  the 
heart  to  tears ;  its  promises,  which  steeled  the  soul  to 
endurance ;  its  glories,  which  carried  the  beholder  far 
away  from  the  wattle  and  clay  of  his  hut  and  his 
grimy  leathern  doublet ;  its  frown,  which  stood  be- 
tween him  and  the  tyrannous  Over  Lord,  and  saved 
his  home  from  starvation  and  his  womankind  from 
dishonor.  Fortunate  was  it  for  the  people  that  they 
had  the  Church  to  show  to  those  ambassadors  of  the 
Moslem. 


Ill 

PLANT A GENET 

* 

I.  ECCLESIASTICAL 

PRINCE  PANTAGRUEL  and  his  companions, 
pursuing  their  incomparable  voyage,  sailed  three 
days  and  three  nights  without  discovering  anything, 
and  on  the  fourth  day  made  land.  The  Pilot  told 
them  that  it  was  the  Ringing  Island ;  and,  indeed,  they 
heard  afar  off  a  kind  of  a  confused  and  oft-repeated 
noise,  that  seemed  at  a  distance  not  unlike  the  sound 
of  great,  middle-sized,  and  little  bells  rung  all  at  once. 
Commentators  have  been  much  exercised  as  to  the 
city  which  the  great  Master  of  Allegory  had  in  view 
when  he  described  r lie  Sonnante.  Foolish  commen- 
tators !  As  if  even  a  small  master  of  allegory,  much 
less  the  great  and  illustrious  Alcofribas  Nasier,  could, 
or  would,  mean  any  one  town  in  particular!  One 
might  as  well  search  for  the  man  whose  portrait  he 
painted  and  called  Panurge.  He  described  all  towns. 
For,  in  truth,  every  mediaeval  city  was  an  lie  Sonnante, 
and  the  greater,  the  richer,  the  more  populous,  the 
more  powerful  was  the  city,  the  louder  and  the  more 
frequent  were  the  jinglings  and  the  janglings,  the  so- 
norous clang  and  the  melodious  peal,  the  chimings 


106  LONDON 

and  the  strikings,  the  music  and  the  jarring  of  the 
thousand  Bells.  They  rang  all  day  long ;  they  rang 
from  the  great  Cathedral  and  from  the  little  Parish 
Church  ;  from  the  stately  monastery,  the  nunnery,  the 
College  of  Priests,  the  Spital,  the  Chantry,  the  Chapel, 
and  the  Hermitage.  They  rang  for  Festivals,  for  Fasts, 
for  Pageants,  for  Processions,  for  Births,  Marriages, 
and  Funerals ;  for  the  election  of  city  officers,  for 
Coronations,  for  Victories,  and  for  daily  service ;  they 
rang  to  mark  the  day  and  the  hour ;  they  rang  in  the 
baby ;  they  rang  out  the  passing  soul ;  they  rang  for 
the  bride ;  they  rang  in  memory  of  the  dead ;  they 
rang  for  work  to  begin  and  for  work  to  cease ;  they 
rang  to  exhort,  to  admonish,  to  console. 

With  their  ringing  the  City  was  never  quiet.  Four 
miles  out  of  London,  the  sound  of  the  Bells  rang  in 
the  ears  of  the  downcast  'prentice  boy  who  sat  upon 
the  green  slopes  of  Highgate:  the  chimes  of  Bow 
struck  merrily  upon  his  ear  above  the  tinkling  of  the 
sheep  bell,  the  carol  of  the  lark,  and  the  song  of  the 
thrush.  To  him  they  brought  a  promise  and  a  hope. 
What  they  brought  to  the  busy  folk  in  the  streets  I 
know  not ;  but  since  they  were  a  folk  of  robust  nerves, 
the  musical,  rolling,  melodious,  clashing,  joyous  ring- 
ing of  bells  certainly  brought  for  the  most  part  a 
sense  of  elation,  hope,  and  companionship.  So,  in 
this  our  later  day,  the  multitudinous  tripper  or  the 
Hallelujah  lad  is  not  happy  unless  he  can  make,  as  he 
goes,  music  —  loud  music  —  in  the  train  and  on  the 
sands.  So,  again,  those  who  march  in  procession  do 
not  feel  complete  without  a  braying  band  with  drums 
great  and  small,  banging  and  beating  and  roaring  an 
accompaniment  to  the  mottoes  on  their  banners,  and 


PLANTAGENET 


TO/ 


uplifting  the  souls  of  the  champions  who  are  about  to 
harangue  the  multitude. 

The  lie  Sonnante  of  Rabelais  may  have  been  Paris 
— of  course  it  was  Paris ;  it  may  have  been  Avignon 
— there  is  not  the  least  doubt  that  it  was  Avignon  ;  it 
may  also  have  been  London — there  can  be  no  manner 
of  question  on  that  point.  Rabelais  never  saw  Lon- 
don ;  but  so  loud  was  the  jingle-jangle  of  the  City 
bells  that  they  smote  upon  his  ear  while  he  was  be- 
ginning that  unfinished  book  of  his  and  inspired  the 
first  chapters.  London,  without  a 
doubt,  London,  and  no  other,  is  the 
true  lie  Sonnante. 

Of  Plantagenet  London  there  is 
much  to  be  said  and  written.  Place 
a  r Eglise !  It  was  a  time  when 
the  Church  covered  all.  Faith  un- 
questioning seemed  to  have  pro- 
duced its  full  effect.  The  promised 
Kingdom,  according  to  eyes  eccle- 
siastic, was  already  among  us.  What 
could  be  better  for  the  world  than 
that  it  should  be  ruled  absolutely 
by  the  Vicar  of  Christ  ?  Yet  the 
full  effect  of  this  rule  proved  in  the  event  not  quite 
what  might  have  been  expected. 

In  London,  says  an  observant  Frenchman,  there  is 
no  street  without  a  church  and  a  tree.  He  speaks  of 
modern  London.  Of  London  in  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury, there  was  no  street  without  its  monastery,  its 
convent  garden,  its  College  of  Priests,  its  Canons  regu- 
lar, its  Friars,  its  Pardoners,  its  sextons,  and  its  serving 
brothers,  and  this  without  counting  its  hundred  and 


108  LONDON 

twenty  parish  churches,  each  with  its  priests,  its  chan- 
tries, its  fraternities,  and  its  church-yard.  The  Church 
was  everywhere ;  it  played  not  only  an  important  part 
in  the  daily  life,  but  the  most  important  part.  Not 
even  the  most  rigid  Puritan  demanded  of  the  world  so 
much  of  its  daily  life  and  so  great  a  share  of  its  reve- 
nues as  the  Church  of  the  Middle  Ages.  There  were 
already  whispered  and  murmured  questions,  but  the 
day  of  revolt  was  still  two  hundred  long  years  ahead. 
Meantime  the  Church  reigned  and  ruled,  and  no  man 
yet  dared  disobey. 

Let  us  consider,  therefore,  as  the  most  conspicuous 
feature  of  Plantagenet  London,  her  great  religious 
Houses.  We  have  seen  what  they  were  in  Norman 
London.  Already  there  were  there  in  existence  the 
Cathedral  of  St.  Paul's,  with  its  canons  and  priests,  its 
army  of  singing  men,  clerks,  boys,  and  servants — itself 
a  vast  monastic  House;  the  Priory  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew;  the  House  of  St.  Mary  Overies ;  the  Hospital 
of  St.Katherine;  the  Priory  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  After 
three  hundred  years,  when  we  look  again  upon  the  map 
of  London,  and  mark  in  color  the  sites  of  Monastery, 
Nunnery,  Church,  College,  and  Church-yard,  it  seems 
as  if  a  good  fourth  part  of  the  City  area  was  swallowed 
up  in  ecclesiastical  Houses.  Not  so  much  was  actually 
covered  by  buildings  of  the  Church,  but  at  least  a 
fourth  of  the  City,  counting  the  gardens  and  the 
courts  and  chapels,  belonged  to  the  Church  and  the 
religious  Houses.  Without  such  a  map  it  is  impossible 
to  estimate  the  enormous  wealth  of  the  mediaeval 
Church,  its  power,  and  its  authority.  It  is  impossible 
to  understand  without  such  a  map  how  enormous  was 
that  Revolution  which  could  shake  off  and  shatter 


PLANTAGENET  IOC) 

into  fragments  a  power  so  tremendous.  Because,  as 
was  London,  so  was  every  other  city.  If  London  had 
a  hundred  and  twenty  churches,  Norwich  had  sixty; 
York  had  forty-five.  If  the  country  all  round  London 
was  parcelled  out  among  the  religious  Houses,  so  all 
over  the  land,  manors  here,  and  estates  there,  broad 
acres  everywhere  belonged  to  the  monks.  But  though 
their  property  was  enormous,  their  power  was  far  be- 
yond that  conferred  by  any  amount  of  property,  for 
they  held  the  keys  of  heaven  and  kept  open  the  gates 
of  hell. 

As  for  the  vast  numbers  actually  maintained  by  the 
Church,  the  single  example  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral — 
of  course,  the  largest  foundation  in  the  City — will  fur- 
nish an  illustration.  In  the  year  1450  the  Society,  a 
Cathedral  body,  included  the  following :  the  Bishop, 
the  Dean,  the  four  Archdeacons,  the  Treasurer,  the  Pre- 
centor, the  Chancellor,  thirty  greater  Canons,  twelve 
lesser  Canons,  about  fifty  Chaplains  or  chantry  priests, 
and  thirty  Vicars.  Of  inferior  rank  to  these  were  the 
Sacrist  and  three  Vergers,  the  Succentor,  the  Master  of 
the  Singing-school,  the  Master  of  the  Grammar-school, 
the  Almoner  and  his  four  Vergers,  the  Servitors,  the 
Surveyor,  the  twelve  Scribes,  the  Book  Transcriber,  the 
Book- binder,  the  Chamberlain,  the  Rent-collector,  the 
Baker,  the  Brewer,  the  singing-men  and  choir-boys,  of 
whom  priests  were  made,  the  Bedesmen,  and  the  poor 
folk.  In  addition  to  these  must  be  added  the  serv- 
ants of  all  these  officers — the  brewer,  who  brewed  in 
the  year  1286,  67,814  gallons,  must  have  employed  a 
good  many  ;  the  baker,  who  evened  every  year  40,000 
loaves,  or  every  day  more  than  a  hundred,  large  and 
small ;  the  sextons,  grave-diggers,  gardeners,  bell-ring- 


no 


LONDON 


ers,  makers  and  menders  of  the  ecclesiastical  robes, 
cleaners  and  sweepers,  carpenters,  masons,  painters, 
carvers  and  gilders — one  can  very  well  understand  that 
the  Church  of  St.  Paul's  alone  found  a  livelihood  for 
thousands. 


RUINS  (1790)  OF   THE    NUNNERY   OF  ST.   HELEN,  BISHOPSGATE  STREET 

The  same  equipment  was  necessary  in  every  other 
religious  foundation.  Not  a  monastery  but  had  its 
great  and  lesser  officers  and  their  servants.  In  every 
one  there  were  the  bell-ringers,  the  singing-men  and 
boys,  the  vergers,  the  gardeners,  the  brewers,  bakers, 
cooks,  messengers,  scribes,  rent-collectors,  and  all  com- 
plete as  was  St.  Paul's,  though  on  a  smaller  scale.  It 
does  not  seem  too  much  to  estimate  the  ecclesiastical 
establishments  as  including  a  fourth  part  of  the  whole 
population  of  the  City. 


PLANTAGENET  1 1 1 

The  London  monasteries  lay  for  the  most  part 
either  just  within  or  just  without  the  City  Wall.  The 
reason  is  obvious.  They  were  founded  when  the  City 
was  already  populous,  and  were  therefore  built  upon 
the  places  where  houses  were  less  numerous  and 
ground  was  of  less  value. 

Let  us,  in  order  to  visit  them  all,  make  a  circuit 
within  the  City  Wall,  beginning  from  the  Tower  on  the 
East. 

The  first  House  at  which  we  stop  is  the  Priory  of 
Crutched  Friars,  that  is,  Crossed  Friars.  They  wore 
a  cross  of  red  cloth  upon  their  backs,  and  carried  an 
iron  cross  in  their  hands.  The  order  of  the  Red 
Cross  was  founded  by  one  Conrad,  of  Bologna,  in  the 
year  1169.  Some  of  the  Friars  found  their  way  to 
London  in  the  middle  of  the  next  century,  and  hum- 
bly begged  of  the  pious  folk  a  house  to  live  in.  Of 
course  they  got  it,  and  many  houses  afterwards,  with  a 
good  following  of  the  citizens.  This  monastery  stood 
behind  Seething  Lane,  opposite  St.  Olave's  Church. 
The  site  afterwards  became  that  of  the  Navy  House, 
and  is  still  marked  by  the  old  stone  pillars  of  the 
entrance  and  the  open  court  within.  This  court  is 
now  a  receiving  house  for  some  railway.  Beyond 
this,  on  the  other  side  of  Aldgate,  stood  a  far  more 
important  monastery,  that  of  the  Holy  Trinity.  The 
site  of  the  place  is  marked — for  there  is  not  a  vestige 
left  of  the  ancient  buildings — bya  mean  little  square 
now  called  St.  James's  Square ;  a  place  of  resort  for 
the  poorer  Jews.  This  noble  House  was  founded  by 
Matilda,  wife  of  Henry  I.,  in  1109,  f°r  regular  Canons 
of  the  Order  of  St.  Augustine.  The  Priory,  enriched 
by  many  later  benefactors,  became  the  wealthiest  and 


112  LONDON 

most  splendid  in  the  City.  Its  Prior,  by  virtue  of  his 
office,  and  because  the  old  Knighten  Guild  had  given 
their  property  to  the  Priory,  was  Alderman  of  Port- 
soken  ward  ;  the  monastery  was  exempted  from  eccle- 
siastical jurisdiction  other  than  the  Pope's;  its  church 
was  great  and  magnificent,  full  of  stately  monuments, 
carved  marbles,  and  rich  shrines;  the  House  was  hos- 
pitable and  nobly  charitable  to  the  poor. 

The  beautiful  old  church  of  St.  Helen,  filled  with 
monuments  curious  and  quaint,  was  formerly  the 
Church  of  the  Priory  of  St.  Helen.  This  nunnery  was 
founded  by  William  Basing,  dean  of  St.  Paul's,  in  the 
reign  of  Richard  I.  The  church,  as  it  now  stands, 
consists  of  the  old  Parish  Church  and  the  Nun's 
Chapel,  formerly  separated  by  a  partition  wall.  The 
Leathersellers'  Company  acquired  some  of  their  ground 
after  the  Dissolution,  and  the  old  Hall  of  the  Nunnery, 
afterwards  the  Leathersellers'  Hall,  was  standing  until 
the  year  1799. 

On  the  north  of  Broad  Street  stood  the  splendid 
House  of  Austin  Friars ;  that  is,  the  Friars  Eremites 
of  the  Order  of  St.  Augustine.  The  House  was  found- 
ed by  Humphrey  Bohun,  Earl  of  Hereford,  in  the 
year  1253.  It  rapidly  became  one  of  the.  wealthiest 
Houses  in  the  City ;  its  church,  very  splendid,  was  filled 
with  monuments.  Part  of  it  stands  to  this  day.  It  is 
now  used  by  the  Dutch  residents  in  London.  The 
quiet  courts  and  the  square  at  the  back  of  the  church 
retain  something  of  the  former  monastic  arrangement 
and  of  the  old  tranquillity.  The  square  is  certainly 
one  of  the  courts  of  the  monastery,  but  I  know  not 
whether  the  Refectory  or  the  Library  or  the  Abbot's 
House  stood  here. 


PLANTAGENET  113 

The  next  great  House  following  the  wall  westward 
was  that  of  St.  Martin's  le  Grand,  of  which  I  have  al- 
ready spoken.  It  was  a  House  of  Augustine  Canons. 
It  formed  a  Precinct  with  its  own  Liberty.  William  of 
Wykeham  was  its  most  famous  Dean.  In  the  sanctu- 
ary Miles  Forrest,  one  of  the  murderers  of  the  two 
Princes  in  the  Tower,  died — "rotted  away  piecemeal." 
The  Liberty  survived  long  after  the  Dissolution. 

Adjoining  St.  Martin's  was  the  great  Foundation  of 
the  Grey  Friars. 

They  were  Franciscans.     Who  does  not  know  the 


ST.   HELEN'S.  BISHOPSGATE 


1 14  LONDON 

story  of  St.  Francis  and  the  foundation  of  his  great 
order?  They  were  the  Preachers  of  the  poor.  The 
first  Franciscans,  like  the  Buddhist  priests,  lived  upon 
alms  ;  they  had  no  money,  no  endowments,  no  books, 
no  learning,  no  great  houses.  Those  who  came  to 
England — it  was  in  the  year  1224 — nine  in  number,  of 
whom  only  one  was  a  priest,  were  penniless.  They 
first  halted  in  Canterbury,  where  they  were  permitted 
to  sleep  at  night  in  a  room  used  by  day  as  a  school. 
Four  of  them  presently  moved  on  to  London,  where 
they  hired  a  piece  of  ground  on  Cornhill,  and  built  upon 
it  rude  cells  of  wattle  and  clay  with  their  own  hands. 
Already  the  Dominicans,  their  rivals — Preachers  of 
the  learned  and  the  rich — had  obtained  a  settlement 
in  Oxford.  The  Franciscans  stayed  a  very  short  time 
on  Cornhill.  In  the  year  1225  one  John  Ewin  bought 
and  presented  to  them  a  piece  of  ground  north  of 
Newgate  Street,  whither  they  removed.  Their  au- 
sterity, their  poverty,  their  earnestness,  their  elo- 
quence drew  all  hearts  towards  them.  And,  as  al- 
ways happens,  their  very  popularity  proved  their  ruin. 
Kings  and  queens,  great  lords  and  ladies,  strove  and 
vied  with  each  other  to  show  their  love  and  admiration 
for  the  men  who  had  given  up  all  that  the  world  can 
offer  for  the  sake  of  Christ  and  for  pity  of  their  broth- 
ers and  sisters.  They  showed  this  love  in  the  manner 
common  with  the  world.  They  forced  upon  the  friars 
a  portion  of  their  wealth ;  they  made  them  receive 
and  enjoy  the  very  things  they  had  renounced.  It  is 
a  wonderful  record.  First,  the  citizens  began.  One 
Lord  Mayor  built  a  new  choir  for  their  church,  with  a 
splendor  worthy  of  the  order  and  of  the  City  ;  another 
built  the  nave  to  equal  the  choir;  a  third  built  the 


PLANTAGENET  115 

dormitories — no  more  wattle  and  daub  for  the  dear 
friars;  other  citizens  built  Chapter  House,  Vestry 
House,  Infirmary,  and  Refectory.  Their  Library  was 
given  by  Dick  Whittington,  thrice  Mayor  of  London. 
Then  came  the  turn  of  the  great  people.  Queen  Mar- 
garet thought  the  choir  of  the  church  should  be  still 
more  splendid,  and  added  to  it  or  rebuilt  it.  Queen 
Isabel  and  Queen  Philippa  thought  that  the  nave 
should  be  more  splendid,  and  with  the  help  of  the  Earl 
and  Countess  of  Richmond,  the  Earl  of  Gloucester  and 
his  sisters,  Lord  Lisle  and  others,  built  a  new  nave, 
300  feet  long,  89  feet  broad,  and  64  feet  high.  Here 
were  buried,  as  in  ground  far  more  sacred  than  that 
of  St.  Paul's  or  any  acre  of  ordinary  consecration, 
Margaret,  wife  of  Edward  I.;  Isabel,  wife  of  Edward 
II.;  Joan  of  the  Tower,  Queen  of  Scots,  daughter  of 
Edward  II.;  Isabel,  daughter  of  Edward  III.;  Beatrice, 
daughter  of  Henry  III.;  and  an  extraordinary  number 
of  persons  great  and  honorable  in  their  day.  What 
became  of  their  monuments  and  of  the  church  itself 
belongs  to  Tudor  London. 

All  those  who  visit  London  are  recommended  by 
the  guide-books  to  see  the  famous  Blue-coat  School. 
The  main  entrance  is  at  the  end  of  a  narrow  lane  lead- 
ing north  from  Newgate  Street.  On  the  right  hand 
of  the  lane  stands  a  great  ugly  pile  built  by  Wren 
twenty  years  after  the  Great  Fire.  This  is  Christ 
Church,  and  it  stands  on  part  of  the  site  of  the  old 
church  of  the  Grey  Friars.  At  the  Dissolution,  Henry 
VIII.  made  their  church  into  a  parish  church,  assign- 
ing to  it  the  two  parishes  of  St.  Nicolas  Shambles 
and  St.  Ewin,  together  with  the  ground  occupied  by 
the  Monastery.  The  church  within  is  as  ugly  as  it  is 


LONDON 


SOUTH-WEST   VIEW   OF   THE   INTERIOR   OF   THE   CHURCH    OF   ST.   HELEN, 
BISHOPSGATE   STREET 

without.  One  shudders  to  think  of  the  change  from 
the  great  and  splendid  monastic  church.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  lane  is  an  open  space,  a  church-yard 


PLANTAGENET 

now  disused.  The  old  church  covered  both  this  open 
space  and  the  area  of  the  modern  church.  Behind  it 
stood  the  cloisters,  the  burial-ground,  and  the  mo- 
nastic buildings  of  the  House,  covering  a  great  extent 
of  ground.  Those  who  go  through  the  gate  find  them- 
selves in  a  large  quadrangle  asphalted.  This  is  now 
part  of  the  boys'  play-ground ;  their  feet  run  every  day 
over  the  old  tombs  and  graves  of  the  Grey  Friars'  bur- 
ial-ground ;  the  soil,  though  not  accounted  so  sacred 
as  that  within  the  church  itself,  was  considered  greatly 
superior  to  that  of  any  common  church-yard.  Most  of 
the  dead  were  buried  in  the  habit  of  the  Grey  Friars, 
as  if  to  cheat  Peter  into  a  belief  of  their  sanctity.  On 
the  south  of  the  quadrangle  two  or  three  arches  may 
be  observed.  These  are  the  only  fragments  remaining 
of  the  cloisters.  The  view  of  Christ's  Hospital  after 
the  Great  Fire  of  1666  shows  the  old  courts  of  the 
Abbey.  The  church  formerly  extended  over  the 
whole  front  of  the  picture  ;  the  buildings  now  seen  are 
wholly  modern ;  the  cloistered  square  was  the  church- 
yard ;  the  Hall  stood  across  the  north  side  of  the  first 
court ;  beyond  were  the  courts  appropriated  to  the 
service  of  the  monks  ;  the  cells,  libraries,  etc.,  were 
round  *he  great  court  and  the  small  courts  on  the 
right.  The  Franciscan  House  is  gone  ;  the  Friars  are 
gone.  Let  us  not  think,  however,  that  their  work  is 
gone.  On  the  contrary,  all  that  was  good  in  it  re- 
mains. That  is  the  quality  and  the  test  of  good  work. 
It  is  imperishable.  If  you  ask  what  is  this  work 
and  where  it  may  be  found,  look  about  you.  In^  the 
prosperity  of  the  City  ;  in  the  energy,  the  industry, 
the  courage,  the  soberness  of  its  people  ;  in  whatever 
virtues  they  possess,  the  Franciscans  have  their  share; 


Il8  LONDON 

the  Grey  Friars,  who  went  straight  at  the  people — 
the  rough,  common,  ignorant  people — and  saved  them 
from  the  destruction  of  those  virtues  which  built  up 
this  realm  of  Britain.  The  old  ideas  change ;  what  is 
to-day  faith  becomes  to-morrow  superstition ;  but  the 
new  order  is  built  upon  the  old.  It  was  a  part  of  the 
training  necessary  for  the  English  people  that  they 
should  pass  under  the  teaching  of  the  Briars. 

In  the  south-western  corner  of  the  City  Wall  were 
lodged  the  Dominicans  or  Black  Friars. 

These,  the  Preaching  Friars,  came  to  England  two 
years  before  their  rivals,  the  Franciscans.  Their  first 
settlement  was  in  the  country  lane  which  now  we  call 
Chancery  Lane.  After  a  residence  there  of  fifty  years 
they  removed  to  this  corner  of  the  town,  which  was, 
so  to  speak,  made  for  them — that  is,  the  City  Wall 
which  formerly  ran  straight  from  Ludgate  to  the  river 
was  pulled  down  and  rebuilt  farther  west  along  the 
bank  of  the  Fleet.  Within  the  piece  of  ground  thus 
added  the  Black  Friars  settled  down,  and  because  the 
ground  had  not  formerly  belonged  to  the  City,  it  now 
became  a  Precinct  of  its  own,  enclosed  by  its  own 
wall,  with  its  four  gates  not  amenable  to  the  City  and 
pretending  to  a  right  of  Sanctuary.  Edward  I.  and 
his  Queen  Eleanor  were  great  benefactors  to  the  Do- 
minicans. Of  the  church  and  the  stately  buildings  of 
the  proud  order  not  a  trace  remains.  In  the  Guild- 
hall Museum  may  be  seen  a  drawing  of  some  ruined 
vaults  belonging  to  the  Abbey,  which  were  discovered 
on  enlarging  the  premises  of  the  Times  some  years 
ago.  There  is  nothing  above-ground.  The  Domini- 
cans, however,  never  succeeded  in  winning  the  affec- 
tions of  the  people  to  the  same  extent  as  the  Fran- 


PLANTAGENET  119 

\  • 

ciscans.  They  were  learned  ;  they  insisted  strongly 
on  doctrine ;  but  they  were  harder  of  heart  than  the 
Grey  Friars.  It  was  the  Dominicans  who  encouraged 
the  planting  of  the  Inquisition. 

All  these  Houses  were  within  the  walls.  Without 
were  others,  as  rich  and  as  splendid.  South  of  Fleet 
Street,  between  Bridewell  Palace  and  the  Temple,  was 


CHURCH    OF   ST.  AUGUSTINE  (ST.   AUSTIN) 


the  House  of  the  Carmelites,  called  the  White  Friars. 
These  also  were  an  Order  of  Mendicants.  The  Fratres 
Beatcz  Maries  de  Monte  Carmelo  sprang  from  the  her- 
mits who  settled  in  numbers  on  the  slopes  of  Mount 
Carmel.  They  were  formed  into  an  order  by  Almeric, 
Bishop  of  Antioch,  and  were  first  introduced  into 
Europe  about  the  year  1216,  by  Albert,  Patriarch  of 
Jerusalem.  They  got  their  house  in  London  from 


120  LONDON 

Edward  I. ;  but  their  chief  benefactor  was  Hugh  Cour- 
tenay,  Earl  of  Devonshire.  They,  too,  had  their  Sanct- 
uary, afterwards  called  Alsatia.  This  privilege  was 
not  abolished  till  the  year  1697. 

Beyond  the  Carmelites  were  the  Templars,  but  the 
suppression  of  the  Order  removed  them  from  the 
scene  in  the  year  1310. 

The  Priories  of  St.  Bartholomew  and  of  St.  John 
belong  to  Norman  London.  On  the  north  of  Bar- 
tholomew's, however,  stood  the  house  of  the  Carthu- 
sians. The  Carthusian  Order  was  a  branch  of  the 
Benedictine  Rule,  to  which  the  Cluniacs  and  Cister- 
cians also  belonged. 

The  house  of  the  Salutation  of  the  Mother  of  God 
—which  was  its  full  title — was  founded  in  the  year 
1371  by  Sir  Walter  Manny.  Those  who  know  their 
Froissart  know  that  gallant  Knight  well  and  can  testify 
to  his  achievements ;  how  he  entreated  King  Edward 
for  the  citizens  of  Calais ;  how  he  rescued  the  Count- 
ess of  Montfort  besieged  in  the  castle  of  Hennivere, 
and,  for  his  reward,  was  kissed — he  and  his  companions 
— not  once,  but  two  or  three  times,  by  that  brave 
lady  ;  these  and  many  other  things  can  be  told  of  this 
noble  Knight.  Not  the  least  of  his  feats  was  the 
foundation  of  this  House  of  Religion. 

When  we  speak  of  the  Plague  of  London  we  gen- 
erally mean  that  of  1664-65.  But  this  was  only  the 
last,  and  perhaps  not  the  worst,  of  the  many  plagues 
which  had  visited  the  City.  Thirteen  great  pestilences 
fell  upon  the  City  between  the  years  1094  and  1625— 
in  the  last  year  35,000  died.  That  is  to  say,  one  plague 
happened  about  every  forty  years,  so  that  there  never 
was  a  time  when  a  recent  plague  was  not  in  the  minds 


PLANTAGENET  121 

of  men.  Always  they  remembered  the  last  visitation, 
the  suddenness  and  swiftness  of  destruction,  the  deso- 
lation of  houses,  the  striking  down  of  young  and  old, 
the  loss  of  the  tender  children,  the  sweet  maidens, 
the  gallant  youth.  Life  is  brief  and  uncertain  at 
,the  best;  but  when  the  plague  is  added  to  the  dis- 
eases which  men  expect,  its  uncertainty  is  forced 
upon  the  minds  of  the  people  of  every  condition  with 
a  persistence  and  a  conviction  unknown  in  quiet  times 
Avhen  each  man  hopes  to  live  out  his  three  score  years 
and  ten. 

In  the  year  1347  there  happened  a  dreadful  plague. 
It  began  in  Dorsetshire  and  spread  over  the  whole  of 
the  south  country,  reaching  London  last.  After  a 
while  the  church-yards  were  not  large  enough  to  hold 
the  dead,  and  they  were  forced  to  enclose  ground  out- 
side the  walls.  The  Bishop  of  London,  therefore, 
bought  a  piece  of  ground  north  of  Bartholomew's, 
called  No  Man's  Ground,  which  he  enclosed  and  con- 
secrated, building  thereon  a  "  fair  chapel."  This  place 
was  called  the  Pardon  Church-yard.  It  stood,  as  those 
who  know  London  will  be  interested  to  know,  be- 
yond the  north  wall  of  the  present  Charter  House. 

Two  years  later,  the  plague  still  continuing,  Sir 
Walter  Manny  bought  a  plot  of  thirteen  acres  close  to 
this  church-yard,  and  built  a  chapel  upon  it — it  stood 
somewhere  in  the  middle  of  the  present  Charterhouse 
Square — and  gave  it  for  an  additional  church -yard. 
More  than  fifty  thousand  persons  were  buried  here  in 
one  year,  according  to  Stow ;  but  the  number  is  im- 
possible, unless  the  whole  of  London  died  in  that  year. 
There  used  to  be  a  stone  cross  standing  in  the  church- 
yard with  the  following  inscription : 


122 


LONDON 


Anno  Domini  1349,  regnante  magna  pestilentia,  consecra- 
tum  fuit  hoc  coemiterium  in  quo  et  infra  septa  presentis  mo- 
nasterii  sepulta  fuerunt  mortuorum  corpora  plus  quam  quin- 
quaginta  millia  praeter  alia  multa  abhinc  usque  ad  presens : 
quorum  animabus  propitietur  Deus.  Amen. 

The  old  Pard  on 
Church-yard  afterwards 
became  the  burial-place 
of  suicides  and  executed 
criminals.  To  this  sad 
place  the  bodies  of  such 
were  carried  in  a  cart 
belonging  to  St.  John's 
Hospital  ;  the  vehicle 
was  hung  over  with  black, 
but  with  a  St.  John's 
Cross  in  front,  and  with- 
in it  hung  a  bell  which 
rang  with  the  jolting  and 
the  shaking  of  the  cart 
— a  mournful  sight  to  see 
and  a  doleful  sound  to 
hear. 

Twenty-two  years 
later,  when  there  had 
been  upward  of  a  hun- 
dred thousand  persons 
buried  in  the  new  church- 
yard, Sir  Walter  Manny, 
now  grown  old  and  near 
his  end,  bought  ten  acres 
more,  which  he  gave  to 
the  ground,  and  estab- 


CHURCH    OF    AUSTIN    FRIARS 


PLANTAGENET  123 

lished  here  a  House  of  Carthusians,  called  the  Saluta- 
tion. At  first  he  thought  of  making  a  college  for  a 
warden,  a  dean,  and  twelve  secular  priests.  On  the 
advice,  however,  of  Simon  Sudbury,  Bishop  of  Lon- 
don, he  abandoned  that  project  and  established  a 
House  of  Carthusians. 

The  Cistercian  Order  was  founded  by  one  Stephen 
Harding,  originally  a  monk  of  Sherborne.  He  is  said 
by  William  of  Malmesbury  to  have  left  his  convent 
and  to  have  gone  into  France,  where  he  practised  "the 
Liberal  arts  "  until  he  fell  into  repentance,  and  was  re- 
ceived into  the  monastery  of  Molesmes,  in  Burgundy. 
Here  he  found  a  little  company  of  the  brethren  who 
were  not  content  with  the  Rule  of  the  House,  but  de- 
sired instruction  and  a  rule  more  in  accordance  with 
their  Founder's  intention.  They  seceded,  therefore, 
and  established  themselves  at  Citeaux,  then  entirely 
covered  with  woods.  This  is  their  manner  of  life  set 
forth  by  the  Chronicler : 

Certainly  many  of  their  regulations  seem  severe,  and  more 
particularly  these :  they  wear  nothing  made  with  furs  or  linen, 
nor  even  that  finely  spun  linen  garment  which  we  call  Stami- 
nium  ;'  neither  breeches,  unless  when  sent  on  a  journey,  which 
at  their  return  they  wash  and  restore.  They  have  two  tunics 
with  cowls,  but  no  additional  garment  in  winter,  though,  if 
they  think  fit,  in  summer  they  may  lighten  their  garb.  They 
sleep  clad  and  girded,  and  never  after  matins  return  to  their 
beds  ;  but  they  so  order  the  time  of  matins  that  it  shall  be  light 
ere  the  lauds"  begin ;  so  intent  are  they  on  their  rule,  that  they 
think  no  jot  or  tittle  of  it  should  be  disregarded.  Directly  after 
these  hymns  they  sing  the  prime,  after  which  they  go  out  to 
work  for  stated  hours.  They  complete  whatever  labor  or  serv- 

1  A  kind  of  woollen  shirt. 

8  The  concluding  psalms  of  the  matin  service. 


124  LONDON 

ice  they  have  to  perform  by  day  without  any  other  light.  No 
one  is  ever  absent  from  the  daily  services,  or  from  complines, 
except  the  sick.  The  cellarer  and  hospitaller,  after  complines, 
wait  upon  the  guests,  yet  observing  the  strictest  silence.  The 
abbat  allows  himself  no  indulgence  beyond  the  others — every- 
where present — everywhere  attending  to  his  flock  ;  except  that 
he  does  not  eat  with  the  rest,  because  his  table  is  with  the 
strangers  and  the  poor.  Nevertheless,  be  he  where  he  may, 
he  is  equally  sparing  of  food  and  speech  ;  for  never  more  than 
two  dishes  are  served  either  to  him  or  to  his  company;  lard 
and  meat  never  but  to  the  sick.  From  the  Ides  of  September 
till  Easter,  through  regard  for  whatever  festival,  they  do  not 
take  more  than  one  meal  a  day,  except  on  Sunday.  They  nev- 
er leave  the  cloister  but  for  purpose  of  labor,  nor  do  they 
ever  speak,  either  there  or  elsewhere,  save  only  to  the  abbat 
or  prior.  They  pay  unwearied  attention  to  the  canonical1 
services,  making  no  addition  to  them  except  for  the  defunct. 
They  use  in  their  divine  service  the  Ambrosian  chants*  and 
hymns,  as  far  as  they  were  able  to  learn  them  at  Milan.  While 
they  bestow  care  on  the  stranger  and  the  sick,  they  inflict  in- 
tolerable mortifications  on  their  own  bodies,  for  the  health  of 
their  souls. 

When  we  consider  this  death  in  life,  this  suppres- 
sion of  everything  which  makes  life,  this  annihilation 
of  aims,  ambitions,  and  natural  affections,  this  de- 
struction of  love,  emotion,  and  passion,  this  mere 
monotony  of  breathing,  this  wearisome  futility  and 
vanity,  this  endless  iteration  of  Litanies ;  when  we  re- 
member that  hundreds  of  thousands  in  every  Christian 
country,  men  and  women,  voluntarily  entered  upon 
this  life,  knowing  beforehand  what  it  was,  and  that 

1  The  Horse,  or  canonical  services,  were  matins,  primes,  tierce,  sexts, 
nones,  vespers,  and  complines. 

3  The  Ambrosian  ritual  prevailed  pretty  generally  till  the  time  of 
Charlemagne,  who  adopted  the  Gregorian. 


PLANTAGENET  125 

they  patiently  endured  it,  we  can  in  some  measure 
realize  the  intensity  and  the  reality  of  the  torments 
which  they  believed  to  be  provided  for  the  vast  ma- 
jority of  mankind.  There  grew  up,  in  the  course  of 
years,  rich  monks  and  luxurious  monks ;  but  in  the 
early  days  of  each  order  there  was  the  austerity  of  the 
Rule.  And  though  here  and  there  we  find  a  brother 
who  rises  to  a  spiritual  level  far  above  the  letter  of 
his  Order,  the  religion  of  the  ordinary  brother  was 
little  more  than  the  fear  of  Hell,  with  a  sense  of  grati- 
tude to  the  Saints  for  snatching  him  out  of  the  flames. 
Most  of  the  brethren,  again,  of  the  new  and  more 
austere  Orders,  until  they  became  rich,  were  simple  and 
illiterate.  They  wanted  a  rule  of  life  which  should 
give  them  no  chance  of  committing  sin ;  like  women, 
they  desired  to  be  ruled  in  everything,  even  the  most 
trivial.  At  dinner,  for  instance,  they  were  enjoined  to 
drink  with  both  hands,  and  to  incline  the  head  when 
served;  in  church  they  were  not  to  clinch  their  hands 
or  to  stretch  out  their  legs ;  the  whole  day  was  mapped 
out  for  them  as  it  is  for  boys  at  school.  From  primes 
(the  daybreak  service)  till  tierce,  spiritual  exercises ; 
from  tierce  till  sext,  and  from  nones  till  vespers,  man- 
ual labors  ;  once  every  day  private  prayer  at  the  altar; 
silence  in  the  cell ;  to  ask  for  what  was  wanted  after 
nones ;  no  conversation  in  the  chapter,  the  cloisters, 
or  the  church ;  from  November  till  Easter  conversa- 
tion on  the  customs  of  the  Order ;  afterwards  on  the 
Gospels,  and  so  on.  The  effect  on  the  common  nat- 
ure would  be  to  produce  a  breathing  machine,  incapa- 
ble of  thought,  of  action,  of  judgment,  with  no  affec- 
tions, emotions,  or  passions.  The  holy  brotherhood 
becomes  a  troop  of  slaves  engaged  upon  a  round  of 


126 


LONDON 


trivial  duties,  kept  at  a  low  stage  of  vitality  by  scanty 
food  and  short  sleep.  They  cease  after  a  while  to  de- 
sire any  change ;  they  go  on  in  meekness  and  submis- 
sion to  the  end,  their  piety  measured  by  their  regular- 
ity. Now  and  then  among  them  is  found  one  who 
frets  under  the  yoke.  Either  he  wants  new  austerities, 


CHRIST'S  HOSPITAL,  FROM  THE  CLOISTERS 


like  Stephen  Harding,  or  he  rises  in  mad  revolt,  and 
before  he  can  be  suppressed  commits  such  dreadful 
sins  of  rebellion  and  blasphemy  as  leave  little  doubt 
that  after  all  his  pains  and  privations  his  chances  in 
the  next  world  are  no  better  than  those  of  the  foul- 
mouthed  ruffler  outside,  whose  life  has  been  one  long 


PLANTAGENET  I2/ 

sin,  whose  death  will  be  caused  by  a  knife  in  a  drunk- 
en fray,  whose  body  will  be  carried  in  the  black  cart 
with  the  bell  to  Pardon  Church-yard,  and  'whose  soul, 
most  certainly,  will  be  borne  to  its  own  place  by  the 
hands  of  the  Devil  to  whom  it  belongs. 

There  must  have  been  in  every  convent  such  times 
of  madness  and  revolt,  even  though  the  vital  powers 
were  kept  low  with  poor  and  scanty  food.  It  is  not 
every  man  who  can  be  thus  changed  into  a  slave  and 
a  praying- machine.  The  noblest  souls  must  break 
out  from  time  to  time ;  only  the  ignoble  sink  con- 
tentedly day  by  day  into  lethargic,  passive,  mechanical 
discharge  of  the  rules ;  their  mouths  mechanically 
mumble  the  litanies ;  the  sacredness  falls  out  of  the 
most  holy  acts  and  words  by  reason  of  their  familiar- 
ity ;  they  drop  into  second  childhood  in  the  vigor  and 
strength  of  manhood.  If  the  walls  of  the  convent 
could  speak,  what  tales  would  they  tell  of  madness 
and  despair  and  vain  rage  and  drivelling  idiocy !  One 
thing,  however,  came  to  the  relief  of  these  poor  men 
in  every  order ;  it  was  the  gradual  relaxation  of  the 
Rule,  until,  by  the  Dissolution,  the  laws  of  the  Founder 
had  passed  into  forms  and  words,  and  the  House,  en- 
riched by  benefactions,  had  become  a  pleasant  club, 
consisting  of  none  but  gentlemen,  where  certain  light 
duties  removed  the  tedium  of  an  idle  life. 

For  two  hundred  years  this  House  of  the  Salutation 
continued.  There  remains  no  record  of  that  long 
period  ;  no  record  at  all.  There  is  no  history  of  those 
poor  souls  who  lived  their  dreary  lives  within  its  walls. 
The  monks  obeyed  the  Rule  and  died  and  were  forgot- 
ten. Nay,  they  had  been  forgotten  since  the  day  when 
they  assumed  the  hood.  The  end  of  the  Carthusians 


128  LONDON 

came  in  blood  and  prison  and  torture ;  but  that  be- 
longs to  Tudor  London. 

The  accompanying  view  (p.  1 30)  of  .he  Charter  House 
after  the  Dissolution,  and  when  Sutton  had  altered  it 
for  his  new  Foundation,  is  useful  in  showing  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  older  monastic  buildings.  Chapel, 
cloisters,  courts,  bowling  green,  kitchen  garden,  and 
"  wilderness  "  are  all  exactly  as  the  monks  left  them, 
though  most  of  the  buildings  are  of  later  date.  The 
founder,  Sir  Walter,  lived  to  see  only  the  commence- 
ment of  his  work.  He  died  the  year  after  his  House 
was  established,  and  was  buried  in  the  chapel,  he  and 
his  wife  Margaret,  and  many  other  gallant  knights  and 
gracious  ladies,  who  thus  acknowledged,  when  they 
chose  to  be  laid  among  the  dust  and  ashes  of  the  poor 
folk  who  had  died  of  the  plague  and  those  who  had 
died  by  the  gibbet,  their  brotherhood  with  the  poorest 
and  the  humblest  and  the  most  unfortunate. 

The  modern  visitor  to  London,  when  he  has  seen 
great  St.  Bartholomew's,  is  taken  up  a  street  hard  by. 
Here,  amid  mean  houses  and  shops  of  the  lower  class, 
he  sees  standing  across  the  road  St.  John's  Gate,  a 
place  already  as  well  known  to  him  and  as  frequently 
figured  as  St.  Paul's  itself.  This  is  the  gate — and  it  is 
nearly  all  that  is  left — of  the  great  Priory  of  St.  John 
of  Jerusalem. 

It  was  founded  in  the  year  iioo,  and  therefore  be- 
longs to  Norman  London.  Its  founder  was  Jordan 
Briset,  a  Baron  of  the  Realm,  and  Muriel,  his  wife. 
They  had  already  founded  a  priory  for  nuns  close  by 
Clerkenwell.  A  church  of  some  kind  was  certainly 
built  at  the  beginning,  but  the  great  Priory  Church, 
one  of  the  most  splendid  in  London,  was  not  dedi- 


PLANTAGENET  129 

cated  till  the  year  1185,  and  then  by  no  less  a  person 
than  by  Heraclius,  Patriarch  of  Jerusalem,  then  in  Eng- 
land in  quest  of  aid  and  money  for  another  Crusade. 

In  its  Foundation  the  brethren  took  the  vows  of 
chastity,  obedience,  and  poverty.  They  were  to  have 
a  right  to  nothing  but  bread,  water,  and  clothes.  They 
begged  their  food ;  on  Wednesdays  and  Fridays  they 
fasted ;  a  breach  of  their  first  vow  was  punished  by 
public  flogging  and  penance ;  no  women  were  to  do 
any  offices  at  all  for  them ;  they  were  to  be  silent, 
never  to  go  about  alone ;  they  were  to  be  the  servants 
of  the  sick  and  poor ;  they  were  valiantly  to  defend 
the  Cross.  "  Receive,"  says  the  ritual  of  admission, 
"  the  yoke  of  the  Lord  :  it  is  easy  and  light,  and  thou 
shalt  find  rest  for  thy  soul.  We  promise  thee  nothing 
but  bread  and  water,  a  simple  habit  of  little  worth. 
We  give  thee,  thy  parents  and  relations,  a  share  in  the 
good  works  performed  by  our  Order  and  by  our  breth- 
ren, both  now  and  hereafter,  throughout  the  world. 
We  place,  O  brother,  this  cross  upon  thy  breast;  that 
thou  mayest  love  it  with  all  thy  heart,  and  may  thy 
right  hand  ever  fight  in  its  defence !  Should  it  hap- 
pen that  in  fighting  against  the  enemies  of  the  faith 
thou  shouldest  desert  the  standard  of  the  Cross  and 
take  to  flight,  thou  wilt  be  stripped  of  the  holy  sign 
according  to  the  statutes  and  customs  of  the  Order,  as 
having  broken  its  vows,  and  thou  wilt  be  cut  off  from 
our  body." 

This  poor,  valiant,  and  ascetic  society  became  in  two 
hundred  years  enormously  rich  and  luxurious.  By  its 
pride  and  its  tyranny  it  had  incurred  the  most  deadly 
hatred  of  the  common  people,  as  is  shown  by  their 
behavior  during  the  insurrection  of  Wat  Tyler  and 
9 


130 


LONDON 


\ 


leg 


THE  CHARTER    HOUSE 


John  Bull.  The  first  step  of  the  rebels  in  Essex  was 
to  destroy  a  fair  manor-house  belonging  to  the  Knights 
Hospitallers,  and  to  devour  and  waste  the  stores  of 
food,  wine,  and  clothes  contained  in  it.  On  their  way 
to  London  they  destroyed  another  manor  belonging 
to  the  Knights,  that  of  Highbury.  After  they  had 
burned  and  pillaged  Lambeth  and  the  Savoy,  they 
went  in  a  body  to  St.  John's  Priory  and  destroyed  the 
whole  of  the  buildings,  church  and  all.  And  they 
seized  and  beheaded  the  Grand  Prior,  who  was  also 
Treasurer  of  the  Realm.  The  church  soon  rose  again, 
and  the  monastic  buildings  were  replaced  with  more 
than  the  ancient  splendor,  and  the  luxury  of  the 
Knights  was  in  no  way  diminished  by  this  disaster. 
The  Gate  itself,  part  of  the  later  buildings,  now  be- 
longs to  the  English  Knights  of  St.  John,  who  have 
established  an  ambulance  station  close  beside  it  and 
maintain  a  hospital  at  Jerusalem.  The  very  beautiful 


PLANTAGENET  13! 

crypt  of  the  church  still  stands  and  may  be  visited. 
Part  of  the  walls  of  the  mean  modern  church  also  be- 
longs to  the  old  church. 

On  the  north  side  of  the  Priory  and  adjacent  to  it 
lay  the  twin  Foundation  of  Briset,  the  Priory  of  Black 
Nuns.  Its  church,  at  the  Dissolution,  became  the 
Parish  Church  of  St.  James  Clerkenwell.  Jordan  Bri- 
set and  his  wife  were  buried  in  this  church. 

The  Hospital  of  St.  Mary  of  Bethlehem  was  situ- 
ated at  first  outside  Bishopsgate,  close  to  St.  Botolph's 
Church.  This  ancient  Foundation,  of  which  our  Beth- 
lehem Hospital  is  the  grandchild,  was  endowed  by 
one  Sim6n  Fitz  Mary,  Sheriff  in  the  year  1247.  It 
was  designed  for  a  convent,  the  monks  being  obliged 
to  receive  and  entertain  the  Bishop  of  Bethlehem  or 
his  nuncio  whenever  either  should  be  in  London.  It 
is  said  to  have  become  a  hospital  within  a  few  years 
of  its  foundation.  In  the  year  1347  the  brethren 
were  all  engaged  in  collecting  alms.  This  was  one  of 
the  lesser  Houses,  though  it  survived  the  rest  and  be- 
came the  great  and  splendid  Foundation  'which  still 
exists.  A  little  farther  north,  and  on  the  opposite 
side  of  Bishopsgate  Street,  stood  the  great  House  of 
St.  Mary  Spital — Domus  Dei  et  Beatcs  Virginis — found- 
ed in  the  year  1 197  by  Walter  Brune  and  Rosia  his 
wife.  It  was  originally  a  Priory  of  Canons  Regular. 
At  some  time  in  its  history,  I  know  not  when,  it  was 
converted  into  a  hospital,  like  its  neighbor  of  Bethle- 
hem. It  would  be  interesting  to  learn  when  this 
change  became  even  possible.  It  must  have  been 
long  after  its  foundation,  when  the  old  prayer-machine 
theory  had  lost  something  of  its  earliest  authority, 
and,  in  the  face  of  the  mass  of  human  suffering,  men 


132  LONDON 

began  to  ask  whether  the  machinery  engaged  in  iter- 
ating litanies  might  not  be  made  more  useful  in  the 
alleviation  of  suffering.  For  whatever  cause,  the  House 
of  God  and  the  Blessed  Virgin  became  St.  Mary  Spi- 
tal,  and  at  the  time  of  the  Dissolution  there  were  no 
fewer  than  one  hundred  and  eighty  beds  in  the  House. 
Near  St.  Mary  Spital  was  Holywell  Nunnery.  On 
the  south  side  of  Aldgate,  outside  the  wall,  stood  the 
famous  Abbey  of  St.  Clare,  called  the  Minories,  found- 
ed by  Edmund,  Earl  of  Lancaster,  in  the  year  1293, 
for  the  reception  of  certain  nuns  brought  over  by  his 
wife,  Blanche,  Queen  of  Navarre,  who  were  professed 
to  serve  God,  the  Blessed  Virgin,  and  St.  Francis. 

There  is  a  church,  one  of  the  meanest  and  smallest 
vof  all  the  London  churches,  standing  in  the  ugliest 
and  dreariest  part  of  the  City,  called  the  Church  of 
the  Holy  Trinity,  Minories,  which- is  often  visited  by 
Americans  because  the  arms  of  Washington  are  to  be 
seen  here;  and  by  antiquaries,  because  the  head  of 
the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  executed  on  Tower  Hill,  is  pre- 
served here.-  The  north  wall  of  this  church  is  part  of 
the  wall  of  the  Clare  Sisters'  Church,  and  is  all  that 
remains  in  that  squalid  place  of  the  noble  Foundation. 

Sir  Walter  Manny's  Carthusian  House  was  not  the 
only  Foundation  arising  out  of  the  great  Plague  of 
1348.  On  the  north-east  of  the  Tower  arose  at  the 
same  time  a  very  stately  House,  dedicated  to  the 
Honor  of  God  and  the  Lady  of  Grace.  It  began  ex- 
actly in  the  same  way  as  the  Carthusians',  by  the  pur- 
chase of  a  piece  of  ground  in  which  to  bury  those  who 
died  of  the  plague.  John  Corey,  Clerk,  first  bought 
the  ground,  calling  it  the  Church -yard  of  the  Holy 
Trinity.  One  Robert  Elsing  gave  five  pounds,  and 


PLANTAGENET 


133 


other  citizens  contributing,  the  place  was  enclosed  and 
a  chapel  built  on  it.  Then  Edward  III.,  remember- 
ing a  certain  vow  made  during  a  certain  tempest  at 
sea,  in  which  he  was  only  saved  by  the  miraculous  in- 
terposition of  the  Virgin  Mary  herself,  built  here  a 
monastery  which  he  called  the  House  and  King's 
Free  Chapel  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  of  Grace — "  in  me- 
moriam  Gratiarum."  The  House  obtained  the  Manor 
of  Gravesend  and  other  rich  benefactions.  There  is 
little  history  that  I  have  discovered  belonging  to  it. 
The  people  commonly  called  it  either  New  Abbey 
or  Eastminster,  and  when  it  was  surrendered  its  year- 
ly value  was  £546,  equivalent  to  about  .£10,000  a 
year  as  prices  now  obtain. 

On   the  south  side  of  Thames,  besides  St.  Mary 
Overies  already  noticed,  there  were  two  great  Houses. 


RUINS   OF   THE  CONVENT   OF   NUNS    MINORIES,  l8lO 


134  LONDON 

The  first  of  these,  St.  Thomas's  Hospital,  was  found- 
ed in  the  year  1213  by  Richard,  Prior  of  Bermondsey, 
for  converts  and  poor  children.  He  called  it  the 
Almery.  Two  years  afterwards  the  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester, Peter  de  Rupibus,  now  founded  the  place  for 
Canons  Regular.  After  the  Dissolution  it  was  pur- 
chased by  the  City  of  London  for  a  hospital  for  the 
sick  and  poor. 

The  second,  Bermondsey  Abbey,  though  founded 
as  early  as  1081  by  one  Alwyn  Childe,  Citizen,  and 
probably  one  of  Fitz  Stephen's  thirteen  conventual 
churches,  and  a  most  interesting  House  from  many 
points  of  view,  hardly  comes  within  our  limits.  Por- 
tions of  the  Abbey  were  standing  until  the  beginning 
of  this  century.  All  the  then  existing  remains  were 
figured  by  Wilkinson  ;  I  have  not  been  able  to  find  a 
fragment  of  it  now  remaining  above-ground.  Under- 
ground, vaults,  arches,  and  crypts  undoubtedly  re- 
main, and  will  be  discovered  from  time  to  time  as  ex- 
cavations are  made  for  new  buildings.  These  great 
Houses,  all  richly  endowed  with  broad  manors,  de- 
voured a  good  part  of  the  whole  country.  Their 
schools,  their  learning,  and  their  charities  are  matters 
of  sentiment  if  not  of  history.  For  the  time  came 
when  the  school  should  become  free  of  the  monastery, 
and  when  the  vast  estates  formed  for  the  benefit  of 
the  monks  should  pass  into  the  hands  of  the  commu- 
nity. Charity  to  the  poor  is  a  thing  beautiful  in  it- 
self ;  better  than  to  relieve  the  poor  is  to  lessen  the 
necessity  of  poverty. 

But  this  long  list  of  great  Houses  by  no  means  ex- 
hausts the  list.  Besides  these  of  the  City,  within  it  or 
else  around  it,  were  many  others,  not  so  rich,  yet  well 


PLANTAGENET  135 

endowed.  He,  for  instance,  who  walks  along  the 
broad  highway  of  Whitechapel  and  Mile  End,  if  he 
continues  his  walk,  presently  arrives  at  a  most  inter- 
esting and  venerable  church.  It  is  quite  small,  with 
a  low  tower :  it  stands  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  and 
has  a  long,  narrow  church-yard,  cigar-shaped,  before 
and  behind  it.  This  is  the  Church  of  St.  Mary,  or 
Bow  Church.  It  was  formerly  the  Church  of  a  nun- 
nery founded  at  Stratford-le-Bow  by  William  the  Con- 
queror ;  it  was  augmented  by  Stephen,  enriched  by 
Henry  II.  and  Richard  I.,  and  it  lasted  till  the  Disso- 
lution. Let  us  remember  that  every  new  endowment 
of  a  monastic  House  meant  the  sequestration  of  so 
many  acres  of  land ;  they  were  taken  from  the  coun- 
try and  given  to  the  Church ;  they  could  never  be 
sold ;  the  tenants  could  never  acquire  property  or 
rise  in  the  world ;  all  the  lands  owned  by  convents, 
churches,  or  colleges  were  lands  withdrawn  forever  (as 
it  seemed)  from  the  healthy  change  and  chance  of  pri- 
vate property. 

I  do  not  think  that  Bow  Church  is  mentioned  in 
any  of  the  London  hand-books.  There  is  yet  another 
and  a  much  more  important  and  interesting  Founda- 
tion which,  I  believe,  is  not  recommended  by  any 
guide-book  to  the  visitor.  Yet  Waltham  Abbey  Church 
is  a  place  of  the  greatest  interest.  It  may  almost 
be  ranked  with  Winchester,  Westminster,  Canterbury, 
Caen,  and  Fontevrault  as  regards  historic  interest. 
Moreover,  it  is  at  this  day  a  place  of  singular  beauty, 
and  is  approached,  by  one  who  is  well  advised  and 
can  give  up  to  the  visit  a  whole  afternoon  and  even- 
ing, by  a  most  beautiful  walk.  The  name  Waltham 
has  been  explained  as  the  place  of  the  wall.  In  that 


136  LONDON 

case,  here  was  a  "  waste  Chester,"  a  fortified  enclosure 
found  by  the  East  Saxons  when  they  overran  the 
country,  and  left  by  them,  as  they  left  so  many  other 
places,  to  fall  into  decay.  It  seems  most  likely,  how- 
ever, that  the  name  is  Wealdham,  the  place  of  the 
forest. 

The  history  of  Waltham  begins  with  a  famous  wed- 
ding feast.  It  is  that  of  Tofig,  the  Royal  Standard- 
bearer,  and  it  caused  the  death  of  a  king,  because 
Hardeknut  at  this  feast  drank  himself  to  death.  The 
great  Danish  Thane  built  here  a  hunting  lodge,  the 
place  being  built  in  the  midst  of  a  mighty  forest,  of 
which  vestiges  remain  to  this  day  at  Hampstead, 
Hornsey,  and  Epping.  Now,  Tofig  held  lands  in 
Somersetshire  as  well  as  in  Middlesex.  And  at  a  place 
called  Lutgarsbury,  which  is  now  Montacute  (mons 
acutus),  a  singular  peaked  hill,  there  lived  a  smith, 
who  was  moved  in  a  dream  to  dig  for  a  certain  cross 
which,  it  was  revealed  to  him,  lay  buried  underground. 
He  did  so,  and  was  rewarded  by  finding  a  splendid 
cross  of  black  marble  covered  with  silver  and  set  with 
precious  stories.  When  he  had  found  it,  he  naturally 
thought  it  his  duty  to  convey  it  to  the  nearest  great 
monastery.  In  these  days  quite  another  course  would 
suggest  itself  to  the  fortunate  rustic.  This  smith  of 
Lutgarsbury,  therefore,  placed  the  cross  on  the  cart, 
and  informed  the  oxen  that  he  was  going  to  drive 
them  to  Glastonbury,  that  holy  House  sacred  to  the 
memory  of  Joseph  of  Arimathea  himself,  and  illustri- 
ous for  its  thorn  flowering  in  midwinter.  Miracle ! 
The  oxen  refused  to  move.  The  parish  priest,  called 
in  to  advise,  suggested  Canterbury,  only  second  to 
Glastonbury  in  sanctity.  Still  these  inspired  animals 


PLANTAGENET 


137 


refused  to  move.  Perhaps  Winchester  might  be  tried. 
There  they  had  the  bones  of  St.  Swithin.  No,  not 
even  to  Winchester  would  they  carry  the  cross. 
"  Then,"  said  the  priest,  "  let  them  carry  the  cross  to 


STSE-" 

•  •  ~  ~~?"--v 
.^ 


f-: "•£;.? ' '  •£.= ;- v>?; :  %     •--•"  '-.-''-. 
^g^fZ?  •:: 


BOW   CHURCH.    MILS    BND    ROAD 


your  master,  Tofig,  at  Waltham."  Strange  to  say, 
though  Waltham  had  no  special  sanctity,  the  intelli- 
gent creatures  immediately  set  off  with  the  greatest 
alacrity  in  the  direction  of  Waltham,  a  hundred  and 


138  LONDON 

fifty  miles  away,  and  reached  it  after  a  ten  days'  jour- 
ney, bearing  the  cross  safely. 

The  story  is  preserved  in  a  tract,  De  Inventione 
Sancta  Cruets  Walthamensis,  and  must  be  believed  by 
all  the  faithful.  Thane  Tofig  showed  his  sense  of 
what  was  due  to  a  miracle  by  building  a  church  for 
the  reception  of  the  cross,  and  appointing  two  canons 
to  serve  the  church.  It  is  also  said  that  at  least  sixty 
persons  were  cured  by  means  of  this  miraculous  cross, 
and  that  many  of  them  continued  to  live  near  the 
church  in  order  to  testify  to  its  powers.  When,  a  few 
years  later,  Harold  obtained  possession  of  the  estate, 
he  built  a  larger  and  more  splendid  church  on  the  site, 
and  placed  twelve  instead  of  two  canons  in  it,  with  a 
dean  and  school-master.  The  church  was  consecrated 
in  the  year  1060,  in  the  presence  of  King  Edward  and 
Edith  his  Queen.  On  his  way  south  to  meet  William, 
Harold  stopped  to  pray  before  the  cross.  While  he 
prayed,  the  head  on  the  cross,  which  had  before  look- 
ed upward,  bent  forward,  and  so  remained  downcast. 
On  the  field  of  Senlac,  Harold's  cry  was  "  The  Holy 
Cross." 

The  body  of  the  dead  King  was  brought  to  the 
church  and  buried  in  the  chancel.  Only  the  nave  re- 
mains, but  there  still  stretches  to  the  east  a  green  space 
which  was  once  the  chancel,  and  somewhere  under 
this  green  lawn  lies  the  body  of  the  last  Saxon  king. 

William  the  Conqueror  spared  the  Foundation.  Hen- 
ry II.  replaced  Harold's  canons  by  monks  of  Rule.  He 
is  said  to  have  rebuilt  the  church,  but  this  is  doubted. 
Probably  some  of  the  existing  part,  the  nave,  contains 
Harold's  work,  which  was  already  Norman  in  char- 
acter. When,  in  1307,  the  body  of  Edward  I.  was 


PLANTAGENET  139 

brought  from  the  north  to  be  buried  in  Westminster, 
it  lay  for  seventeen  days  in  the  Abbey  Church  of  Wal- 
tham.  And  the  place  is  full  of  historical  memories, 
not  only  of  kings,  but  of  worthies.  Cranmer  here  ad- 
vised Henry  VIII.  concerning  his  divorce.  Thomas 
Fuller  here  wrote  his  Church  History.  Foxe  here  wrote 
his  Book  of  the  Martyrs.  The  church  now  stands  on 
the  north  side  of  a  small  and  rather  mean  town ;  it  is 
in  the  midst  of  a  large  church-yard  planted  with  yew- 
trees,  and  set  with  benches  for  the  old  to  sit  among  the 
tombs.  The  grave  of  King  Harold,  somewhere  under 
the  turf,  has  over  it  the  circled  firmament  instead  of 
the  lofty  arch  ;  instead  of  the  monkish  litanies  it  hears 
the  song  of  the  lark  and  thrush  ;  instead  of  the  whisper 
and  the  hushed  footfall  of  the  priests  there  is  the 
voice  of  the  children  playing  in  the  town  and  the 
multitudinous  sound  of  work  in  the  streets  hard  by. 
A  happy  exchange  ! 

In  the  Old  Jewry  there  was  established  by  Henry 
III.  —  a  Jewish  synagogue  being  their  first  house  —  a 
branch  of  a  very  singular  order — the  Fratres  de  Peni- 
tentid  Jesu  or  Fratres  de  Saccd.  They  were  mendi- 
cants of  the  Franciscan  Rule,  and  were  dressed  in  sack- 
cloth to  denote  their  poverty  and  their  penitence.  It 
was  another  and  one  of  the  last  endeavors  after  a  re- 
turn to  the  early  zeal  and  the  first  poverty  of  the 
Order.  For  a  time  the  new  brotherhood  enjoyed  con- 
siderable popularity ;  Queen  Eleanor,  wife  of  Edward 
I.,  took  them  under  her  protection  and  endowed  the 
synagogue,  which  was  all  they  had,  with  lands  and 
houses.  Unhappily  the  Council  of  Lyons,  1274,  or- 
dered that  there  should  be  recognized  no  other  mendi- 
cant friars  except  the  Dominicans,  the  Minorites,  the 


140 


LONDON 


Carmelites,  and  the  Augustines.  So  one  supposes 
that  these  Brothers,  just  as  they  were  getting  comfort- 
able in  their  synagogue,  and  beginning  to  reap  the 
fruits  of  their  austerities,  had  to  turn  out  again,  be- 
cause no  one  was  allowed  to  give  them  anything,  and 
so  went  back  to  the  common  Orders,  who  would  not 
allow  even  the  wearing  of  the  sackcloth.  One  is  sorry 
for  the  poor  men  so  proud  of  their  sackcloth  and  with 
such  encouraging  recognition  already  won. 


NORTH-EAST   VIEW    OF    WALTHAM    ABBKY 
CHURCH,  KSSEX 


Again,  there  is  not  much  in 
the  modern  Church  of  St.  Giles 
in  the  Fields  to  suggest  the 

past — a  large  stone  church  with  a  church-yard,  stand- 
ing in  a  miserable  district,  which  for  two  hundred 
years  has  been  the  haunt  of  criminals  and  vagabonds. 


PLANTAGENET  14! 

Yet  here  was  one  of  the  very  earliest  Houses  of  piety 
and  charity.  Here  was  perhaps  the  earliest  hospital 
founded  in  this  land  of  Britain.  It  was  instituted  by 
Queen  Maud,  wife  of  Henry  I.,  as  a  lazar-house  for 
lepers  and  other  poor  sick  men.  What  became  of  the 
lepers  when  there  was  no  house  for  them  ?  They  crept 
into  empty  hovels;  they  perished  miserably,  outcast, 
neglected.  So  long  as  they  were  strong  enough  to 
creep  out  they  begged  their  bread ;  when  they  could 
no  longer  crawl,  they  lay  down  and  died.  Thanks  to 
the  good  Queen,  some  of  them,  at  least,  were  cared  for 
in  their  last  days.  A  sweet  fragrance  of  thanksgiving 
lingers  still  about  the  slums  of  St.  Giles.  The  poor 
lepers  who  lie  buried  in  that  squalid  church-yard  still 
uplift  a  voice  of  praise  for  those  who  remember  the 
sick  and  all  that  are  desolate  and  sore  oppressed. 

Nor  is  there  at  Charing  Cross  much  to  remind  the 
visitor  of  the  past.  Yet  here  was  a  Foundation  some- 
what unusual  of  its  kind.  It  was  an  "  alien  "  House. 
The  Chapel,  Hospital,  or  House  of  St.  Mary  Rounceval 
waS  founded  by  William  Marshall,  Earl  of  Pembroke, 
who  gave  certain  tenements  to  the  Prior  of  Rounceval, 
or  de  Roscida  Valle,  in  the  Diocese  of  Pampeluna, 
Navarre.  It  was  a  House  for  eleven  brethren.  Henry 
IV.  suppressed  all  alien  priories,  this  among  the  rest, 
but  it  was  restored  by  Edward  IV.  as  a  Fraternity. 
After  the  Dissolution  the  site  of  the  House  was  used 
by  the  Earl  of  Northampton  for  the  palace  which, 
under  the  name  of  Northumberland  House,  stood 
until  the  other  day,  the  last  of  the  river-side  paLces. 

Other  great  Houses  are  sometimes  reckoned  as 
London  Houses,  such  as  those  of  Barking,  Wimbledon, 
Merton,  and  Chertsey ;  but  these  are  outside  our 


142  LONDON 

limits.  Nor  can  I  touch  here  upon  any  of  the  relig- 
ious Foundations  of  Westminster. 

We  have  seen  that  when  we  lay  down  the  monastic 
establishments  upon  the  map,  they  occupy  a  very  con- 
siderable part  of  the  area  within  the  walls.  But  when 
we  consider,  in  addition,  the  great  number  of  smaller 
Foundations,  the  colleges,  hospitals,  and  fraternities 
with  Houses,  the  parish  churches  and  the  church-yards, 
we  shall  begin  to  understand  that  the  space  required 
for  ecclesiastical  buildings  alone  in  the  confined  area 
of  a  mediaeval  town  gives  a  very  fair  idea  of  the  pow- 
er and  authority  of  the  Church. 

After  the  Monasteries  come  the  Colleges,  so  called, 
by  which  we  must  not  understand  seats  of  learning, 
but  colleges  of  priests.  There  were  several  of  these : 

First,  that  of  St.  Thomas  of  Aeon.  The  college 
was  founded  by  Agnes,  sister  of  Thomas  a  Becket. 
She  endowed  it  with  her  father's  property  in  London. 
It  stood  on  the  site  of  the  present  Mercers'  Chapel, 
and  was  built  on  the  spot  where  the  new  saint  was 
born.  The  Mercers'  Chapel,  however,  occupies  only 
a  portion  of  the  splendid  church  which  was  destroyed 
in  the  Great  Fire.  The  Foundation  received  many 
endowments,  and  at  the  Dissolution  its  income  was 
nearly  ^300  a  year,  equal  to  twenty  times  as  much 
of  modern  money.  The  City,  naturally  proud  of  its 
saint,  observed  a  curious  annual  function  in  connec- 
tion with  this  college.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  day 
when  he  was  sworn  at  the  Exchequer,  the  new  Lord 
Mayor,  with  the  Aldermen,  met  at  this  chapel  and 
thence  proceeded  to  St.  Paul's,  where  first  they  prayed 
for  the  soul  of  Bishop  William — who  had  been  Bishop 
of  London  in  the  time  of  William  the  Conqueror. 


PLANTAGENET  143 

This  done,  they  repaired  to  the  tomb  of  Gilbert  a 
Becket,  in  Pardon  Church-yard,  and  there  prayed  for 
all  faithful  souls  departed.  Then  they  returned  to 
St.  Thomas  Aeon  and  made  an  offering.  Nothing 
is  said  about  the  evening,  but  one  hopes  that  the  day 
was  concluded  in  the  cheerful  manner  common  at  all 
times  with  London  citizens. 

Next,  the  College  of  Whittington. 

This  noble  and  wealthy  merchant  rebuilt  the  Church 
of  St.  Michael,  called  Paternoster  in  the  Royal,  and 
attached  to  it  a  College  of  St.  Spirit  and  St.  Mary  for 
a  master,  from  fellows,  clerks,  conducts,  and  choristers, 
together  with  an  almshouse  for  thirteen  poor  men. 
They  were  all  bound  to  pray  for  the  soul  of  Sir  Rich- 
ard Whittington  and  his  wife,  Dame  Alice ;  also  for 
those  of  Sir  William  Whittington  and  Dame  Joan, 
his  wife,  the  parents  of  the  founder.  The  college  was 
swept  away  at  the  Dissolution ;  the  almshouse  re- 
mained and  was  rebuilt  after  the  Fire.  They  are  now 
removed  to  Highgate,  but  a  conventual  feeling  still 
lingers  about  the  buildings  at  the  back  of  the  church. 

Then  follows  St.  Michael's  College,  Crooked  Lane. 

Sir  William  Walworth,  the  valiant  Mayor  who  kill- 
ed Wat  Tyler,  founded  a  college  of  one  master  and 
nine  chaplains  to  say  mass  in  St.  Michael's  Church, 
the  choir  and  the  aisles  of  which  he  rebuilt. 

And  there  was  also  Jesus  Commons. 

This  Foundation  seems  to  have  resembled  that  of 
All-Souls,  Oxford,  in  that  its  fellows  had  no  duties  to 
perform  except  the  services  of  their  chapel.  It  is 
described  as  a  fair  house  in  Dowgate  (no  doubt  built 
round  a  small  quadrangle),  well  furnished  with  every- 
thing and  containing  a  good  library,  all  for  the  use  of 


144  LONDON 

those  who  lived  there — a  peaceful,  quiet  place,  with- 
out any  history.  One  thinks  of  the  day  when  it  had 
to  be  dissolved,  and  the  poor  old  priests,  who  had 
lived  so  long  in  the  house,  were  driven  forth  into  the 
streets.  Not  even  submission  to  the  king's  suprem- 
acy could  save  the  tenants  of  Jesus  Commons.  The 
house  itself  was  pulled  down  and  tenements  built  in 
its  place. 

A  somewhat  similar  House  was  a  small  and  very  in- 
teresting Foundation  called  the  Papey.  It  was  a  col- 
lege for  poor  and  aged  priests.  In  any  old  map  the 
church  called  St.  Augustine  Papey  may  be  seen  at 
the  north  end  of  St.  Mary  Axe  nestled  under  the  wall, 
with  a  piece  of  ground  adjoining,  which  may  have 
been  a  garden  and  may  have  been  a  burial-ground. 
We  find  the  poor  old  priests  taking  part  in  funerals, 
and,  I  daresay,  in  any  other  function  by  which  their 
slender  provision  might  be  augmented. 

Next  to  the  Colleges  come  the  Hospitals.  St.  Bar- 
tholomew's, most  ancient  and  richest,  belongs  to  Nor- 
man London. 

One  who  walks  along  the  street  called  London  Wall 
will  chance  upon  a  church-yard,  on  the  north  side  of 
which  still  stands  a  fragment  of  the  old  wall.  This 
church-yard,  narrow  and  small,  is  surrounded  on  three 
sides  by  warehouses ;  on  the  fourth  side  it  looks  upon 
the  street.  On  the  other  side  of  the  street  is  a  large 
block  of  warehouses,  the  monument  of  a  most  dis- 
graceful and  shameful  act  of  vandalism.  On  this  spot 
stood  Rising  Spital.  It  was  founded  in  the  year  1329 
as  a  priory  and  hospital  for  the  maintenance  of  a  hun- 
dred blind  men  by  one  William  Elsing,  its  first  Prior. 
On  the  dissolution  of  the  religious  houses,  Elsing's 


PLANTAGENET 


145 


WALTHAM    ABBEY   CHURCH,  ESSEX,  BEFORE   RESTORATION 


Spital  surrendered  with  the  rest,  and  was  dissolved. 
What  became  of  the  blind  men  is  not  known.  Then 
they  took  the  fine  Priory  Church,  and  having  pulled 
down  the  north  aisle — on  the  site  of  which  houses 
were  built — they  converted  the  rest  of  the  church  into 
the  parish  church  of  St.  Alphege,  which  had  previous- 
ly stood  in  Cripplegate.  The  site  of  the  old  church 


146  LONDON 

was  turned  into  a  carpenter's  yard.  The  porch  of  St. 
Alphege  remains  of  the  ancient  buildings.  Of  Sion 
College,  which  in  course  of  time  succeeded  Elsing's 
Spital,  we  will  speak  in  another  place. 

That  splendid  Foundation  which  rears  its  wards  on 
the  south  of  the  Thames,  over  against  the  Houses  of 
Parliament,  St.  Thomas's  Hospital,  was  founded  in 
1313  as  an  almery,  or  house  of  alms  for  converts  and 
poor  children ;  but  two  years  later  the  House  was  re- 
founded  on  a  much  larger  scale.  After  the  Dissolu- 
tion, its  site,  then  in  Southwark,  was  purchased  by 
the  citizens  of  London.  To  sum  up,  London  was  as 
well  provided  with  hospitals  in  the  fourteenth  century 
as  it  was  with  convents  and  religious  houses.  They 
were  St.  Bartholomew's,  Elsing  Spital,  St.  Giles  Crip- 
plegate,  St.  Mary  Spital,  St.  Mary  of  Bethlehem.  St. 
Thomas  Southwark,  and  the  Lazar  House  of  South- 
wark. 

These  hospitals,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind,  were  all 
religious  Foundations  governed  by  brethren  of  some 
Order.  Religion  ruled  all.  From  the  birth  of  the  child 
to  the  death  of  the  man  religion,  the  forms,  duties, 
and  obedience  due  to  religion,  attended  every  one. 
No  one  thought  it  possible  that  it  could  be  otherwise. 
The  emancipation  of  mankind  from  the  thrall  of  the 
Church,  incomplete  to  the  present  day,  had  then  hard- 
ly yet  begun.  All  learning,  all  science,  all  the  arts, 
all  the  professions,  were  in  the  hands  of  the  Church. 
It  is  very  easy  to  congratulate  ourselves  upon  the  re- 
moval of  these  chains.  Yet  they  were  certainly  a 
necessary  part  of  human  development.  Order,  love 
of  law,  respect  for  human  life,  education  in  the  power 
of  self-government,  such  material  advance  as  prepared 


PLANTAGENET  147 

the  way — all  these  thjngs  had  to  be  taught.  No  one 
could  teach  them  or  enforce  them  but  the  priest,  by 
the  authority  and  in  the  wisdom  of  the  Church.  On 
the  whole,  he  did  his  best.  At  the  darkest  time  the 
Church  was  always  a  little  in  advance  of  the  people ; 
the  Church  at  the  lowest  preserved  some  standard  of 
morals,  and  of  conduct ;  and  even  if  the  standard  was 
low,  why,  it  was  higher  than  that  of  the  laity. 

When  we  see  the  Franciscans  preaching  to  the  peo- 
ple;  the  Carthusians  cowering  silent  and  gloomy  in 
their  cells;  the  Dominicans  insisting  on  the  letter  of 
the  Faith  ;  kings  and  queens  and  great  lords  trying  to 
get  buried  in  the  holy  soil  of  a  monastery  church — let 
us  recognize  that,  out  of  this  discipline  emerged  the 
Londoner  of  Queen  Bess,  eager  for  adventure  and  for 
enterprise  ;  the  Londoner  who  was  so  stout  for  liberty 
that  he  drove  out  one  king  and  then  another  king, 
and  set  aside  a  dynasty  for  the  sacred  cause ;  the 
Londoner  of  our  own  time,  who  is  no  whit  inferior  to 
his  forefathers. 

One  other  form  of  religious  society  must  be  men- 
tioned— that  of  the  Fraternity.  There  were  Fraterni- 
ties attached  to  every  church.  Those  of  the  same 
trade  in  a  parish — those  of  the  same  trade  in  many 
parishes  —  united  together  in  a  Fraternity  —  of  the 
Blessed  Virgin,  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  of  the  Corpus 
Christi,  of  Saint  this  or  that.  All  the  Danes  in  Lon- 
don joined  together  to  make  a  Fraternity — or  all  the 
Dutch.  All  the  fish-mongers,  or  all  the  pepperers; 
they  formed  Fraternities  —  not  yet  trades -unions  or 
companies — which  had  masses  sung  for  the  souls  of 
their  brethren  ;  met  in  the  churches  on  their  Saint's 
Day ;  had  solemn  service  and  a  procession  and  a( 


148 


LONDON 


feast.  It  is  only  by  such  a  bond  as  this  that  any  call- 
ing or  trade  can  become  dignified,  self-respecting,  and 
independent.  The  Fraternities  were  founded,  for  the 
most  part,  before  the  Companies.  These  could  not 
have  existed  at  all  but  for  the  impetus  to  union  given 
by  the  Fraternities.  Common  action — the  most  im- 
portant discovery  ever  made  for  the  common  welfare 
— was  made  possible,  among  those  who  would  other- 
wise have  been  torn  asunder  by  rivalries  and  trade 
jealousies,  by  the  Fraternities. 

Among  the  thirty-one  who  formed  the  goodly  com- 


PORCH  OF  ST.  SEPULCHRE'S  CHURCH 


PLANTAGENET  149 

pany  which  pilgrimized  to  Canterbury  with  Chaucer, 
twelve  belonged  to  the  Church.  Was  this  proportion 
accidental  ?  I  think  not.  Chaucer  placed  in  his  com- 
pany such  a  proportion  of  ecclesiastics  as  would  be 
expected  on  such  an  occasion.  The  portraits  of  Chau- 
cer are  taken  from  the  life :  he  saw  them  in  the  streets 
of  London  ;  in  the  houses  ;  in  the  churches.  It  helps 
us  to  understand  the  City,  only  to  read  those  portraits 
over  again.  Are  they  so  well  known  that  it  is  super- 
fluous to  do  more  than  refer  to  them  ?  Perhaps  not. 
Let  us  take  them  briefly.  There  is  the  Prioress,  who 
has  with  her  a  nun  for  chaplain  and  three  priests.  She 
is  a  gentlewoman,  smiling,  coy,  dainty  in  her  habits 
and  in  her  dress ;  she  is  tender-hearted  and  fond  of 
pets  ;  the  nun's  wimple  is  plaited ;  on  her  arm  she 
wears  beads  with  a  gold  brooch — 

On  whiche  was  first  y-written  a  crowned  A, 
And  after  Amor  vincit  omnia. 

She  is  lively,  affectionate,  and  amiable,  but  she  affects 
dignity  as  a  Prioress  should.  Clearly  the  superior  of 
an  Order  whose  vows  are  not  too  strict,  and  whose  au- 
sterities respect  the  weakness  of  the  sex.  Who  does 
not  know,  at  the  present  day,  hundreds  of  gentle  maid- 
en ladies  who  might  sit  for  the  portrait  of  the  Prior- 
ess? 

Then  comes  the  Limitour,  one  who  held  the  Bish- 
op's license  to  hear  confessions,  and  to  officiate  with- 
in a  certain  district.  This  fellow  is  everybody's  friend 
so  long  as  he  gets  paid :  the  country  gentlemen  like 
him,  and  the  good  wives  like  him,  because  he  hears 
confessions  sweetly,  and  enjoins  easy  penance ;  he 
could  sing  and  play ;  he  could  drink ;  he  knew  all  the 


150  LONDON 

taverns;  he  was  to  appearance  a  merry,  careless  toper; 
in  reality,  he  was  courteous  only  to  the  rich,  and 
thought  continually  about  his  gains.  He  kept  his 
district  to  himself,  buying  off  those  who  tried  to  prac- 
tise within  his  limits.  A  natural  product,  the  Limitour, 
of  a  time  when  outward  forms  make  up  all  the  religion 
that  is  demanded. 

The  Oxford  Clerk  has  no  benefice  because  he  has  no 
interest.  All  the  money  that  he  got  he  spent  in 
books ;  his  horse  was  lean ;  he  himself  was  lean  and 
hollow.  He  travels  to  foreign  universities  in  order  to 
converse  with  scholars. 

The  Monk  was  a  big,  brawny  man,  bald-headed,  and 
his  robe  was  trimmed  with  fur ;  a  great  hunter  who 
kept  greyhounds  and  had  many  horses.  He  was  fat 
and  in  good  point ;  he  loved  a  fat  swan  best  of  any 
roast ;  he  wore  a  gold  pin  with  a  love  knot.  Obedi- 
ence to  the  Rules  of  his  Order  is  not,  it  seems,  ever 
expected  of  such  a  man. 

The  Town  Parson,  of  low  origin,  a  learned  man 
who  loved  his  people,  and  was  content  with  poverty, 
and  gave  all  to  the  poor,  and  was  ever  at  their  service 
in  all  weathers.  The  picture  of  the  good  clergyman 
might  serve  for  to-day.  Mis  parish  was  wide,  but  he 
went  about 

Upon  his  feet,  and  in  his  hand  a  staf. 

This  noble  ensaumple  unto  his  scheep  he  yaf, 

That  first  he  wrought,  and  after  that  he  taughte 

Out  of  the  gospel  he  the  wordes  caughte, 

And  this  figure  he  added  yet  thereto, 

That  if  gold  ruste,  what  scholde  yren  do? 

The  Sompnour,  or   Summoner,  an   officer   of  the 


§  • 


PLANTAGENET  153 

Ecclesiastical  courts,  is  only  half  an  ecclesiastic.     His 
portrait  is  pure  farce. 

Lastly,  there  is  the  Pardoner.  He  is  the  hypocrite. 
He  carried  sham  relics  about  with  him,  and  sold  pigs' 
bones  for  precious  and  holy  remains  warranted  to  heal 
sheep  and  cattle,  to  bring  good  harvests,  to  prolong 
life,  to  bring  increase  of  sowing. 

Of  avarice  and  of  swiche  cursednesse 
Is  al  my  preching,  for  to  make  hem  free 
To  yeve  hir  pense,  and  namely  unto  me. 

I  wol  non  of  the  Apostles  counterfete, 

I  wol  have  money,  wolle,  chese,  and  whete. 

Al  were  it  yeven  of  the  pourest  page, 

Or  of  the  pourest  widewe  in  a  village, 

Al  schulde  hire  children  sterven  for  famine. 

If  such  pictures  as  these  could  be  drawn  and  freely 
circulated,  the  first  step  was  taken  towards  the  Refor- 
mation. Only  the  first  step.  Before  Reformation 
comes  there  must  be  more  than  the  clear  eyes  of  the 
•prophets  able  to  see  and  to  proclaim  the  truth.  The 
eyes  of  the  people  must  be  washed  so  that  they,  too, 
can  discern  the  truth  behind  these  splendid  vestments 
and  this  gorgeous  structure  of  authority. 

Such,  so  great,  was  the  power  and  the  wealth  of  the 
Church  from  the  twelfth  to  the  sixteenth  century. 
Every  street  had  its  parish  church  with  charities  and 
Fraternities  and  endowments;  colleges,  Houses  for 
priests,  almeries,  hospitals,  were  scattered  all  about 
the  City;  within  and  without  the  wall  there  were 
fifteen  great  Houses,  whose  splendor  can  only  be  un- 
derstood by  the  ruins  of  Tintern,  Glastonbury,  Fount- 
ains, or  Whitby.  Every  House  was  possessed  of  rich 


1 54  LONDON 

manors  and  broad  lands;  every  House  had  its  treasury 
rilled  with  title-deeds  as  well  as  with  heaps  of  gold  and 
silver  plate;  every  House  had  its  church  crowded  with 
marble  monuments,  adorned  with  rich  shrines  and 
blazing  altars  and  painted  glass,  such  as  we  can  no 
longer  make.  Outside,  the  humblest  parish  church 
showed  on  its  frescoed  walls  the  warnings  of  Death 
and  Judgment,  the  certainty  of  Heaven  and  Hell. 
And  they  thought  —  priest  and  people  alike — that  it 
was  all  going  to  last  forever.  Humanity  had  no  other 
earthly  hope  than  a  continuance  of  the  bells  of  Vile 
Sonnante. 


IV 

PLANTAGENET  —  continued 

II.    PRINCE    AND    MERCHANT 

IT  is  never  safe  to  adopt  in  blind  confidence  the 
conclusions  of  the  antiquary.  He  works  with 
fragments ;  here  it  is  a  passage  in  an  old  deed ;  here  a 
few  lines  of  poetry;  here  a  broken  vase ;  here  the  cap- 
ital of  a  column  ;  here  a  drawing,  cramped,  and  out  of 
proportion,  and  dwarfed,  from  an  illuminated  manu- 
script. This  kind  of  work  tends  to  belittle  everything; 
the  splendid  city  becomes  a  mean,  small  town ;  King 
Solomon's  Temple,  glorious  and  vast,  shrinks  to  the 
dimensions  of  a  village  conventicle ;  Behemoth  him- 
self becomes  an  alligator ;  Leviathan,  a  porpoise  ;  his- 
tory, read  by  this  reducing  lens,  becomes  a  series  of 
patriotic  exaggerations.  For  instance,  the  late  Dr. 
Brewer,  a  true  antiquary,  if  ever  there  was  one,  could 
see  in  mediaeval  London  nothing  but  a  collection  of 
mean  and  low  tenements  standing  among  squalid 
streets  and  filthy  lanes.  That  this  estimate  of  the 
City  is  wholly  incorrect  we  shall  now  proceed  to  show. 
Any  city,  ancient  or  modern,  might  be  described  as 
consisting  of  mean  and  squalid  houses,  because  in 
every  city  the  poor  outnumber  the  rich,  and  the  small 


1 56 


LONDON 


houses  of  the  poor  are  more  frequent  than  the  man- 
sions of  the  wealthy. 

When  one  who  wishes  to  reconstruct  a  city  of  the  past 
has  obtained  from  the  antiquary  all  he  has  discovered, 
and  from  the  historian  all  he  has  to  tell,  there  is  yet 
another  field  of  research  open  to  him  before  he  begins 
his  task.  It  is  the  place  itself — the  terrain — the  site 

of  the  town,  or  the  mod- 
ern town  upon  the  site 
of  the  old.  He  must  ex- 
amine that;  prowl  about 
it ;  search  into  it ;  con- 
sider the  neglected  cor- 
ners of  it.  I  will  give  an 
example.  Fifty  years 
ago  a  certain  learned  an- 
tiquary and  scholar  vis- 
ited the  site  of  an  an- 
cient Syrian  city,  now 
sadly  reduced,  and  little 
more  than  a  village.  He 
looked  at  the  place — he 
did  not  explore  it,  he 
looked  at  it  —  he  then 
read  whatever  history 
has  found  to  say  of  it ; 

he  proceeded  to  prove  that  the  place  could  never 
have  been  more  than  a  small  and  insignificant  town 
composed  of  huts  and  inhabited  by  fishermen.  Those 
who  spoke  of  it  as  a  magnificent  city  he  called  en- 
thusiasts or  liars.  Forty  years  passed  ;  then  another 
man  came;  he  not  only  visited  the  site,  but  examined 
it,  surveyed  it,  and  explored  it.  This  man  discovered 


CHARING   CROSS 

Erected  by  Edward  I.  in  memory  of 
Queen  Eleanor  of  Castile 


PLANTAGENET  157 

that  the  place  had  formerly  possessed  a  wall  —  the 
remains  still  existing — two  miles  and  more  in  length ; 
an  acropolis,  strong  and  well  situated — the  ruins  still 
standing — protecting  a  noble  city  with  splendid  build- 
ings. The  antiquary,  you  see,  dealing  with  little  frag- 
ments, could  not  rise  above  them ;  his  fragments 
seemed  to  belong  to  a  whole  which  was  puny  and  in- 
significant. This  antiquary  was  Dr.  Robinson,  and 
the  place  was  the  once  famous  city  of  Tiberias,  by  the 
shores  of  the  Galilean  lake. 

In  exactly  the  same  manner,  he  who  would  under- 
stand mediaeval  London  must  walk  about  modern 
London,  but  after  he  has  read  his  historian  and  his 
antiquary,  not  before.  Then  he  will  be  astonished  to 
find  how  much  is  left,  in  spite  of  fires,  reconstructions 
and  demolitions,  to  illustrate  the  past. 

Here  a  quaint  little  square,  accessible  only  to  foot- 
passengers,  shut  in,  surrounded  by  merchants'  offices, 
still  preserves  its  ancient  form  of  a  court  in  a  suppress- 
ed monastery.  Since  the  church  is  close  by,  one  ought 
to  be  able  to  assign  the  court  to  its  proper  purpose. 
The  hall,  the  chapter-house,  the  kitchens  and  buttery, 
the  abbot's  residence,  may  have  been  built  around 
this  court. 

Again,  another  little  square  set  with  trees,  like  a 
Place  in  Toulon  or  Marseilles,  shows  the  former  court 
of  a  royal  palace.  And  here  a  venerable  name  sur- 
vives telling  what  once  stood  on  the  site  ;  here  a  dingy 
little  church -yard  marks  the  former  position  of  a 
church  as  ancient  as  any  in  the  City. 

London  is  full  of  such  survivals,  which  are  known 
only  to  one  who  prowls  about  its  streets,  note-book  in 
hand,  remembering  what  he  has  read.  Not  one  of 


158 


LONDON 


them  can  be  got  from  the  book  antiquary,  or  from  the 
guide-book.  As  one  after  the  other  is  recovered  the 
ancient  city  grows  not  only  more  vivid,  but  more  pict- 
uresque and  more  splendid.  London  a  city  of  low 


CHURCH   OF   ST.   PAUL'S,  BEFORE   THE   FIRE 

mean  tenements?  Dr.  Brewer — Dr.  Brewer  !  Why,  I 
see  great  palaces  along  the  river-bank  between  the 
quays  and  ports  and  warehouses.  In  the  narrow  lanes 
that  rise  steeply  from  the  river  I  see  other  houses  fair 
and  stately,  each  with  its  gate-way,  its  square  court, 
and  its  noble  hall,  high  roofed,  with  its  oriel-windows 
and  its  lantern.  Beyond  these  narrow  lanes,  north  of 
Watling  Street  and  Budge  Row,  more  of  those  houses 
— and  still  more,  till  we  reach  the  northern  part  where 
the  houses  are  nearly  all  small,  because  here  the 
meaner  sort  and  those  who  carry  on  the  least  desir- 
able trades  have  those  dwellings. 


PLANTAGENET  159 

You  have  seen  that  London  was  full  of  rich  mon- 
asteries, nunneries,  colleges,  and  parish  churches,  in 
so  much  that  it  might  be  likened  unto  the  lie  Sonnante 
of  Rabelais.  You  have  now  to  learn,  what  I  believe 
no  one  has  ever  yet  pointed  out,  that  if  it  could  be 
called  a  city  of  churches  it  was  much  more  a  city  of 
palaces.  This  shall  immediately  be  made  clear.  There 
were,  in  fact,  in  London  itself  more  palaces  than  in 
Verona  and  Florence  and  Venice  and  Genoa  all  to- 
gether. There  was  not,  it  is  true,  a  line  of  marble 
palazzi  along  the  banks  of  a  Grande  Canale  ;  there  was 
no  Piazza  della  Signoria,  no  Piazza  della  Erbe  to  show 
these  buildings.  They  were  scattered  about  all  over 
the  City ;'  they  were  built  without  regard  to  general 
effect  and  with  no  idea  of  decoration  or  picturesque- 
ness  ;  they  lay  hidden  in  narrow  winding  labyrinthine 
streets;  the  warehouses  stood  beside  and  between 
them ;  the  common  people  dwelt  in  narrow  courts 
around  them  ;  they  faced  each  other  on  opposite  sides 
of  the  lanes. 

These  palaces  belonged  to  the  great  nobles  and 
were  their  town  houses ;  they  were  capacious  enough 
to  accommodate  the  whole  of  a  baron's  retinue,  con- 
sisting sometimes  of  four,  six,  or  even  eight  hundred 
men.  Let  us  remark  that  the  continual  presence  of 
these  lords  and  their  following  did  much  more  for  the 
City  than  merely  to  add  to  its  splendor  by  the  erect- 
ing of  great  houses.  By  their  residence  they  prevent- 
ed the  place  from  becoming  merely  a  trading  centre 
or  an  aggregate  of  merchants ;  they  kept  the  citizens 
in  touch  with  the  rest  of  the  kingdom  ;  they  made  the 
people  of  London  understand  that  they  belonged  to 
the  Realm  of  England.  When  Warwick,  the  King- 


i6o 


LONDON 


maker,  rode  through  the  streets  to  his  town-house, 
followed  by  five  hundred  retainers  in  his  livery;  when 
King  Edward  the  Fourth  brought  wife  and  children 
to  the  City  and  left  them  there  under  the  protection 
of  the  Londoners  while  he  rode  out  to  fight  for  his 
crown;  when  a  royal  tournament  was  held  in  Chepe 
— the  Queen  and  her  ladies  looking  on — then  the  very 
school -boys  learned  and  understood  that  there  was 


MONUMENTS  OF  ST.  PAUL'S  WHICH  SURVIVED  THE  FIRB 
(EAST  END  OF  THE  NORTH  CRYPT) 


PLANTAGENET  l6l 

more  in  the  world  than  mere  buying  and  selling,  im- 
porting and  exporting;  that  everything  must  not  be 
measured  by  profit ;  that  they  were  traders  indeed, 
and  yet  subjects  of  an  ancient  crown ;  that  their  own 
prosperity  stood  or  fell  with  the  well-doing  of  the 
country.  This  it  was  which  made  the  Londoners  ar- 
dent politicians  from  very  early  times  ;  they  knew  the 
party  leaders  who  had  lived  among  them  ;  the  City 
was  compelled  to  take  a  side,  and  the  citizens  quickly 
perceived  that  their  own  side  always  won — a  thing 
which  gratified  their  pride.  In  a  word,  the  presence 
in  their  midst  of  king  and  nobles  made  them  look  be- 
yond their  walls.  London  was  never  a  Ghent ;  nor 
was  it  a  Venice.  It  was  never  London  for  itself 
against  the  world,  but  always  London  for  England 
first,  and  for  its  own  interests  next. 

Again,  the  City  palaces,  the  town -houses  of  the 
nobles,  were  at  no  time,  it  must  be  remembered,  for- 
tresses. The  only  fortress  of  the  City  was  the  White 
Tower.  The  houses  were  neither  castellated  nor  for- 
tified nor  garrisoned.  They  were  entered  by  a  gate, 
but  there  was  neither  ditch  nor  portcullis.  The  gate 
— only  a  pair  of  wooden  doors — led  into  an  open  court 
round  which  the  buildings  stood.  Examples  of  this 
way  of  building  may  still  be  seen  in  London.  For 
instance,  Staple  Inn,  or  Barnard's  Inn,  affords  an  ex- 
cellent illustration  of  a  mediaeval  mansion.  There 
are  in  each  two  square  courts  with  a  gate-way  leading 
from  the  road  into  the  Inn.  Between  the  courts  is  a 
hall  with  its  kitchen  and  buttery.  Clifford's  Inn, 
Gray's  Inn  and  Old  Square,  Lincoln's  Inn  are  also 
good  examples.  Sion  College,  before  they  wickedly 
destroyed  it,  showed  the  hall  and  the  court.  Hamp- 
it 


162 


LONDON 


ANCIENT    NORTH-EAST    VIEW   OP 
BISHOPSGATE   STREET 


ton  Court  is  a  late  example,  the  position  of  the  Hall 
having  been  changed.  Gresham  House  was  built 
about  a  court.  So  was  the  Mansion  House.  Till  a 
few  years  ago  Northumberland  House,  at  Charing 
Cross,  illustrated  the  disposition  of  such  mansions. 
Those  who  walk  down  Queen  Victoria  Street  in  the 
City  pass  on  the  north  side  a  red  brick  house  standing 
round  three  sides  of  a  quadrangle.  This  is  the  Her- 
ald's College ;  a  few  years  ago  it  preserved  its  fourth 
side  with  its  gate-way.  Four  hundred  years  ago  this 
was  the  town-house  of  the  Earls  of  Derby.  Restore 
the  front  and  you  have  the  size  of  a  great  noble's 
town  palace,  yet  not  one  of  the  largest.  If  you  wish 
to  understand  the  disposition  of  sUch  a  building  as  a 


PLANTAGENET  163 

nobleman's  town-house,  compare  it  with  the  Quadran- 
gle of  Clare,  or  that  of  Queens',  Cambridge.  Derby 
House  was  burned  down  in  the  Fire,  and  was  rebuilt 
without  its  hall,  kitchen,  and  butteries,  for  which  there 
was  no  longer  any  use.  As  it  was  before  the  Fire,  a 
broad  and  noble  arch  with  a  low  tower,  but  showing 
no  appearance  of  fortification,  opened  into  the  square 
court  which  was  used  as  an  exercising  ground  for  the 
men  at  arms.  In.  the  rooms  around  the  court  was 
their  sleeping  accommodation  ;  at  the  side  or  opposite 
the  entrance  stood  the  hall  where  the  whole  house- 
hold took  meals ;  opposite  to  the  hall  was  the  kitchen 
with  its  butteries ;  over  the  butteries  was  the  room 
called  the  Solar,  where  the  Earl  and  Countess  slept ; 
beyond  the  hall  was  another  room  called  the  Lady's 
Bower,  where  the  ladies  could  retire  from  the  rough 
talk  of  the  followers.  We  have  already  spoken  of 
this  arrangement.  The  houses  beside  the  river  were 
provided  with  stairs,  at  the  foot  of  which  was  the 
state  barge  in  which  my  Lord  and  my  Lady  took  the 
air  on  fine  days,  and  were  rowed  to  and  from  the 
Court  at  Westminster. 

There  remains  nothing  of  these  houses.  They  are, 
with  one  exception,  all  swept  away.  Yet  the  descrip- 
tion of  one  or  two,  the  site  of  others,  and  the  actual 
remains  of  one  sufficiently  prove  their  magnificence. 
Let  us  take  one  or  two  about  which  something  is 
known.  For  instance,  there  is  Baynard's  Castle,  the 
name  of  which  still  survives  in  that  of  Baynard's 
Castle  Ward,  and  in  that  of  a  wharf  which  is  still 
called  by  the  name  of  the  old  palace. 

Baynard's  Castle  stood  first  on  the  river-bank  close 
to  the  Fleet  Tower  and  the  western  extremity  of  the 


164 


LONDON 


wall.  The  great  house  which  afterwards  bore  this 
name  was  on  the  bank,  but  a  little  more  to  the  east. 
There  was  no  house  in  the  City  more  interesting  than 
this.  Its  history  extends  from  the  Norman  Conquest 
to  the  Great  Fire — exactly  six  hundred  years ;  and 
during  the  whole  of  this  long  period  it  was  a  great 
palace.  First  it  was  built  by  one  Baynard,  follower 
of  William.  It  was  forfeited  in  A.D.  mi,  and  given 
to  Robert  Fitzwalter,  son  of  Richard,  Earl  of  Clare, 
in  whose  family  the  office  of  Castellan  and  Standard- 
bearer  to  the  City  of  London  became  hereditary.  His 
descendant,  Robert,  in  revenge  for  private  injuries, 
took  part  with  the  Barons  against  King  John,  for 
which  the  Kijig  ordered  Baynard's  Castle  to  be  de- 
stroyed. Fitzwalter,  however,  becoming  reconciled 

to  the  King,  was 
permitted   to   re- 
build   his   house. 
It  was  again  de- 
stroyed, this  time 
by  fire,  in    1428. 
It  was  rebuilt  by 
Humphrey,  Duke  of  Glouces- 
ter, on  whose  attainder  it  re- 
verted to   the   crown.     Dur- 
ing one  of  these  rebuildings 
it  was   somewhat   shifted  in 
position.     Richard,  Duke  of 
York,  next  had  it,  and  lived 

here  with  his  following  of  four  hundred  gentlemen 
and  men  at  arms.  It  was  in  the  hall  of  Baynard's  Cas- 
tle that  Edward  IV.  assumed  the  title  of  king,  and 
summoned  the  bishops,  peers,  and  judges  to  meet  him 


THE  COLLEGE  OF  ARMS,  OR 
HERALD'S  OFFICE 


PLANTAGENET 


I65 


BRIDEWELL 


in  council.  Edward  gave  the  house  to  his  mother, 
and  placed  in  it  for  safety  his  wife  and  children  be- 
fore going  out  to  fight  the  battle  of  Barnet.  Here 
Buckingham  offered  the  crown  to  Richard. 

Alas!  why  would  you  heap  these  cares  on  me? 

I  am  unfit  for  state  and  majesty; 

I  do  beseech  you — take  it  not  amiss — 

I  cannot,  nor  I  will  not,  yield  to  you. 

Henry  VIII.  lived  in  this  palace,  which  he  almost 
entirely  rebuilt.  Prince  Henry,  after  his  marriage 
with  Catherine  of  Aragon,  was  conducted  in  great 


VIEW   OF   THE   SAVOV    FROM    THE   THAMES 


1 66  LONDON 

state  up  the  river,  from  Baynard's  Castle  to  Westmin- 
ster, the  Mayor  and  Commonalty  of  the  City  follow- 
ing in  their  barges.  In  the  time  of  Edward  VI.  the 
Earl  of  Pembroke,  whose  wife  was  sister  to  Queen 
Catharine  Parr,  held  great  state  in  this  house.  Here 
he  proclaimed  Queen  Mary.  When  Mary's  first  Par- 
liament was  held,  he  proceeded  to  Baynard's  Castle, 
followed  by  "  2000  horsemen  in  velvet  coats  with 
their  laces  of  gold  and  gold  chains,  besides  sixty  gen- 
tlemen in  blue  coats  with  his  badge  of  the  green 
dragon."  This  powerful  noble  lived  to  entertain 
Queen  Elizabeth  at  Baynard's  Castle  with  a  banquet, 
followed  by  fireworks.  The  last  appearance  of  the 
place  in  history  is  when  Charles  II.  took  supper  there 
just  before  the  Fire  swept  over  it  and  destroyed  it. 

Another  house  by  the  river  was  that  called  Cold 
Harborough,  or  Cold  Inn. 

This  house  stood  to  the  west  of  the  old  Swan 
Stairs.  It  was  built  by  a  rich  City  merchant,  Sir  John 
Poultney,  four  times  Mayor  of  London.  At  the  end 
of  the  fourteenth  century  it  belonged,  however,  to 
John  Holland,  Duke  of  Exeter,  son  of  Thomas  Hol- 
land, Duke  of  Kent,  and  Joan  Plantagenet,  the  "  Fair 
Maid  of  Kent."  He  was  half-brother  to  King  Rich- 
ard II.,  whom  here  he  entertained.  Richard  III.  gave 
it  to  the  Heralds  for  their  college.  They  were  turned 
out,  however,  by  Henry  VII.,  who  gave  the  house  to 
his  mother,  Margaret,  Countess  of  Richmond.  His 
son  gave  it  to  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury,  by  whose  son 
it  was  taken  down,  one  knows  not  why,  and  mean 
tenements  erected  in  its  place  for  the  river-side  work- 
ing-men. 

Another  royal  residence  was  the  house  called  the 


PLANTAGENET  169 

Erber.  This  house  also  has  a  long  history.  It  is  said 
to  have  been  first  built  by  the  Knight  Pont  de  1'Arche, 
founder  of  the  Priory  of  St.  Mary  Overies.  Edward 
III.  gave  it  to  Geoffrey  le  Scrope.  It  passed  from  him 
to  John,  Lord  Neville,  of  Raby,  and  so  to  his  son 
Ralph  Neville,  Earl  of  Westmoreland,  the  stanch  sup- 
porter of  Henry  IV.  From  him  the  Erber  passed  into 
the  hands  of  another  branch  of  the  Nevilles,  the  Earls 
of  Salisbury  and  Warwick.  The  King-maker  resided 
here,  with  a  following  so  numerous  that  six  oxen  were 
daily  consumed  for  breakfast  alone,  and  any  person 
who  was  allowed  within  the  gates  could  take  away  as 
much  meat,  sodden  and  roast,  as  he  could  carry  upon 
a  long  dagger.  After  his  death,  George,  Duke  of 
Clarence — "  false,  fleeting,  perjured  Clarence" — obtain- 
ed a  grant  of  the  house,  in  right  of  his  wife,  Isabel, 
daughter  of  Warwick.  Richard,  Duke  of  Gloucester, 
succeeded,  and  called  it  the  King's  Palace  during  his 
brief  reign.  Edward,  son  of  the  Duke  of  Clarence, 
then  obtained  it.  In  the  year  1584  the  place,  which 
seems  to  have  fallen  into  decay,  was  rebuilt  by  Sir 
Thomas  Pulsdon,  Lord  Mayor.  Its  last  illustrious  oc- 
cupant, according  to  Stow,  was  Sir  Francis  Drake. 

We  are  fortunate  in  having  left  one  house  at  least, 
or  a  fragment  of  one,  out  of  the  many  London  palaces. 
The  Fire  of  1666  spared  Crosby  Place,  and  though 
most  of  the  old  mansion  has  been  pulled  down,  there 
yet  remains  the  Hall,  the  so-called  Throne  Room,  and 
the  so-called  Council  Room.  The  mansion  formerly 
covered  the  greater  part  of  what  is  now  called  Crosby 
Square.  It  was  built  by  a  simple  citizen,  a  grocer 
and  Lord  Mayor,  Sir  John  Crosby,  in  the  fifteenth 
century;  a  man  of  great  wealth  and  great  position; 


170  LONDON 

a  merchant,  diplomatist,  and  ambassador.  He  rode 
north  to  welcome  Edward  IV.  when  he  landed  at 
Ravenspur  ;  he  was  sent  by  the  King  on  a  mission  to 
the  Duke  of  Burgundy  and  to  the  Duke  of  Brittany. 
Shakespeare  makes  Richard  of  Gloucester  living  in 
this  house  as  early  as  1471,  four  years  before  the 
death  of  Sir  John  Crosby,  a  thing  not  likely.  But  he 
was  living  here  at  the  death  of  Edward  IV.,  and  here 
he  held  his  levies  before  his  usurpation  of  the  crown. 
In  this  hall,  where  now  the  City  clerks.snatch  a  hasty 
dinner,  sat  the  last  and  worst  of  the  Plantagenets, 
thinking  of  the  two  boys  who  stood  between  him  and 
the  crown.  Here  he  received  the  news  of  their  murder. 
Here  he  feasted  with  his  friends.  The  place  is  charged 
with  the  memory  of  Richard  Plantagenet.  Early  in 
the  next  century  another  Lord  Mayor  obtained  it,  and 
lent  it  to  the  ambassador  of  the  Emperor  Maximilian. 
It  passed  next  into  the  hands  of  a  third  citizen,  also 
Lord  Mayor,  and  was  bought  in  1516  by  Sir  Thomas 
More,  who  lived  here  for  seven  years,  and  wrote  in  this 
house  his  Utopia  and  his  Life  of  Richard  the  Third. 
His  friend,  Antonio  Bonvici,  a  merchant  of  Lucca, 
next  lived  in  the  house.  To  him  More  wrote  his  well- 
known  letter  from  the  Tower.  William  Roper,  More's 
son-in-law,  and  William  Rustill,  his  nephew;  Sir 
Thomas  d'Arcy  ;  William  Bond,  Alderman  and  Sher- 
iff, and  merchant  adventurer ;  Sir  John  Spencer,  an- 
cestor of  Lord  Northampton  ;  Mary,  Countess  of  Pem- 
broke, and  sister  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney — 


The  gentlest  shepherdess  that  lived  that  day; 
And  most  resembling,  both  in  shape  and  spirit 
Her  brother  dear — 


PLANTAGENET  173 

the  Earl  of  Northampton,  who  accompanied  Charles 
I.  to  Madrid  on  his  romantic  journey ;  Sir  Stephen 
Langham  —  were  successive  owners  or  occupants  of 
this  house.  It  was  partly  destroyed  by  fire — not  the 
Great  Fire — in  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  The  Hall,  which 
escaped,  was  for  seventy  years  a  Presbyterian  meeting- 
house ;  it  then  became  a  packer's  warehouse.  Sixty 
years  ago  it  was  partly  restored,  and  became  a  literary 
institution.  It  is  now  a  restaurant,  gaudy  with  color 


CROSBY    HOUSE,   BISHOPSGATK  STREET 

and  gilding.  The  Due  de  Biron,  ambassador  from 
France  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  was  lodged 
here,  with  four  hundred  noblemen  and  gentlemen  in 
his  train.  And  here  also  was  lodged  the  Due  de 
Sully. 

In  a  narrow  street  in  the  City,  called  Tower  Royal 
— Tour  De  La  Reole,  built  by  merchants  from  Bor- 
deaux— survives  the  name  of  a  house  where  King 


174  LONDON 

Stephen  lived  in  the  short  intervals  when  he  was  not 
fighting;  King  Richard  II.  gave  it  to  his  mother,  and 
called  it  the  Queen's  Wardrobe ;  he  afterwards  as- 
signed it  to  Leon  III.,  King  of  Armenia,  who  had 
been  dispossessed  by  the  Turks.  Richard  III.  gave 
it  to  John,  Duke  of  Norfolk,  who  lived  here  until  his 
death  at  the  battle  of  Bosworth  Field.  There  is  no 
description  of  the  house,  which  must  have  had  a  tower 
of  some  kind,  and  there  is  no  record  of  its  demolition  : 
Stow  only  says  that  "  of  late  times  it  has  been  neg- 
lected and  turned  into  stabling  for  the  king's  horses, 
and  is  now  let  out  to  divers  men,  and  is  divided  into 
tenements." 

The  Heralds'  College  in  Queen  Victoria  Street,  al- 
ready mentioned,  stands  on  the  site  of  Derby  House. 
Here  the  first  Earl,  who  married  the  mother  of  Henry 
VII.,  lived.  Here  the  Princess  Elizabeth  of  York 
was  the  guest  of  the  Earl  during  the  usurpation  of 
Richard.  The  house  was  destroyed  in  the  Fire  and 
rebuilt  in  a  quadrangle,  of  which  the  front  portion 
was  removed  to  make  room  for  the  new  street. 

Half  a  dozen  great  houses  do  not  make  a  city  of 
palaces.  That  is  true.  Let  us  find  others.  Here, 
then,  is  a  list,  by  no  means  exhaustive,  drawn  up 
from  the  pages  of  Stow.  The  Fitz  Alans,  Earls  of 
Arundel,  had  their  town  house  in  Botolph  Lane,  Bil- 
lingsgate, down  to  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
The  street  is  and  always  has  been  narrow,  and,  from 
its  proximity  to  the  fish -market,  is  and  always  has 
been  unsavory.  The  Earls  of  Northumberland  had 
town  houses  successively  in  Crutched  Friars,  Fen- 
church  Street,  and  Aldersgate  Street.  The  Earls  of 
Worcester  lived  in  Worcester  Lane,  on  the  river-bank ; 


INTERIOR  OF  CROSBY  HALL 


PLANTAGENET  177 

the  Duke  of  Buckingham  on  College  Hill:  observe 
how  the  nobles,  like  the  merchants,  built  their  houses 
in  the  most  busy  part  of  the  town.  The  Beaumonts 
and  the  Huntingdons  lived  beside  Paul's  Wharf ;  the 
Lords  of  Berkeley  had  a  house  near  Blackfriars ;  Doc- 
tor's Commons  was  the  town  house  of  the  Blounts, 
Lords  Mountjoy.  Close  to  Paul's  Wharf  stood  the 
mansion  once  occupied  by  the  widow  of  Richard, 
Duke  of  York,  mother  of  Edward  IV.,  Clarence,  and 
Richard  III.  Edward  the  Black  Prince  lived  on  Fish 
Street  Hill;  the  house  was  afterwards  turned  into  an 
inn.  The  De  la  Poles  had  a  house  in  Lombard  Street. 
The  De  Veres,  Earls  of  Oxford,  lived  first  in  St.  Mary 
Axe,  and  afterwards  in  Oxford  Court,  St.  Swithin's 
Lane ;  Cromwell,  Earl  of  Essex,  had  a  house  in  Throg- 
morton  Street.  The  Barons  Fitzwalter  had  a  house 
where  now  stands  Grocers'  Hall,  Poultry.  In  Alders- 
gate  Street  were  houses  of  the  Earl  of  Westmoreland, 
the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  and  the  Earl  of  Thanet, 
Lord  Percie,  and  the  Marquis  of  Dorchester.  Suffolk 
Lane  marks  the  site  of  the  "  Manor  of  the  Rose,"  be- 
longing successively  to  the  Suffolks  and  the  Bucking- 
hams;  Lovell's  Court,  Paternoster  Row,  marks  the 
site  of  the  Lovells'  mansion  ;  between  Amen  Corner 
and  Ludgate  Street  stood  Abergavenny  House,  where 
lived  in  the  reign  of  Edward  II.  the  Earl  of  Richmond 
and  Duke  of  Brittany,  grandson  of  Henry  III.  Af- 
terwards it  became  the  house  of  John  Hastings,  Earl 
of  Pembroke,  who  married  Lady  Margaret,  daughter 
of  Edward  III.  It  passed  to  the  Nevilles,  Earl  of 
Abergavenny,  and  from  them  to  the  Stationers'  Com- 
pany. Warwick  Lane  runs  over  Warwick  House. 
The  Sidrieys,  Earls  of  Leicester,  lived  in  the  Old  Bai- 

12 


LONDON 


INTERIOR    OF  PART  OF  CROSBY  HALL,  CALLED  THE  COUNCIL  ROOM,   LOOKING  EAST 

ley.     The  Staffords,  Dukes  of  Buckingham,  lived  in 
Milk  Street. 

Such  a  list,  numbering  no  fewer  than  thirty-five  pal- 
aces— which  is  not  exhaustive  and  does  not  include 
the  town  houses  of  the  Bishops  and  great  Abbots,  nor 
the  halls  of  the  companies,  many  of  them  very  noble, 
nor  the  houses  used  for  the  business  of  the  City,  as 
Blackvvell  Hall  and  Guildhall  —  is,  I  think,  sufficient 


PLANTAGENET  179 

to  prove  my  statement  that  London  was  a  city  of 
palaces. 

Nothing,  again,  has  been  said  about  the  houses  of 
the  rich  merchants,  some  of  which  were  much  finer 
than  those  of  the  nobles.  Crosby  Hall,  as  has  been 
seen,  was  built  by  a  merchant.  In  Basing  Lane  (now 
swallowed  up  by  those  greedy  devourers  of  old  houses, 
Cannon  Street  and  Queen  Victoria  Street),  stood 
Gerrard's  Hall,  with  a  Norman  Crypt  and  a  high-roofed 
Hall,  where  'once  they  kept  a  Maypole  and  called  it 
Giant  Gerrard's  staff.  This  was  the  hall  of  the  house 
built  by  John  Gisors,  Mayor  in  the  year  1305.  The 
Vintners'  Hall  stands  on  the  site  of  a  great  house 
built  by  Sir  John  Stodie,  Mayor  in  1357.  In  the 
house  called  the  Vintry,  Sir  Henry  Picard,  Mayor,  once 
entertained  a  very  noble  company  indeed.  Among 
them  were  King  Edward  III.,  King  John  of  France, 
King  David  of  Scotland,  the  King  of  Cyprus,  and  the 
Black  Prince.  After  the  banquet  they  gambled,  the 
Lord  Mayor  defending  the  bank  against  all  comers  with 
dice  and  hazard.  The  King  of  Cyprus  lost  his  money, 
and,  unfortunately,  his  Royal  temper  as  well.  To  lose 
the  latter  was  a  common  infirmity  among  the  kings 
of  those  ages.  The  Royal  Rage  of  the  proverb  is  one 
of  those  subjects  which  the  essayist  enters  in  his  notes 
and  never  finds  the  time  to  treat.  Then  up  spake  Sir 
Henry,  with  admonition  in  his  voice:  Did  his  High- 
ness of  Cyprus  really  believe  that  the  Lord  Mayor, 
a  merchant  adventurer  of  London,  whose  ships  rode 
at  anchor  in  the  Cyprian  King's  port  of  Famagusta, 
should  seek  to  win  the  money  of  him  or  of  any  other 
king?  "My  Lord  and  King,"  he  said,  "be  not  ag- 
grieved. I  court  not  your  gold,  but  your  play;  for  I 


i8o 


LONDON 


have  not  bidden  you  hither  that  you  might  grieve." 
And  so  gave  the  king  his  money  back.  But  John, 
King  of  France,  and  David,  King  of  Scotland,  and  the 
Black  Prince  murmured  and  whispered  that  it  was  not 
fitting  for  a  king  to  take  back  money  lost  at  play. 
And  the  good  old  King  Edward  stroked  his  gray 
beard,  but  refrained  from  words. 

Another  entertainer  of  kings  was  Whittington. 
What  sayeth  the  wise  man  ? 

"Seest  thou  a  man  diligent  in  his  business?  He 
shall  stand  before  kings." 

They   used  to   show  an   old  house  in  Hart  Lane, 


GATEWAY,  ETC,  IN  CROSBY   SQUARE  (NOW   DESTROYED) 


PLANTAGENET  l8l 

rich  with  carved  wood,  as  Whittington's,  but  he  must 
have  lived  in  his  own  parish  of  St.  Michael's  Pater- 
noster Royal,  and,  one  is  pretty  certain,  on  the  spot 
where  was  afterwards  built  his  college,  which  stood  on 
the  north  side  of  the  church.  Here  he  entertained 
Henry  of  Agincourt  and  Katherine,  his  bride,  with  a 
magnificence  which  astonished  the  king.  But  Whit- 
tington  knew  what  he  was  doing  ;  the  banquet  was 
not  ostentation  and  display ;  its  cost  was  far  more 
than  repaid  by  the  respect  for  the  wealth  and  power 
of  the  city  which  it  nourished  and  maintained  in  the 
kingly  mind.  The  memory  of  this  and  other  such 
feasts,  we  may  be  very  sure,  had  its  after  effect  even 
upon  those  most  masterful  of  sovereigns,  Henry  VIII. 
and  Queen  Bess.  On  this  occasion  it  was  nothing 
that  the  tables  groaned  with  good  things,  and  glitter- 
ed with  gold  and  silver  plate  ;  it  was  nothing  that  the 
fires  were  fed  with  cedar  and  perfumed  wood.  For 
this  princely  Mayor  fed  these  fires  after  dinner  with 
nothing  less  than  the  king's  bonds  to  the  amount  of 
;£6o,ooo.  In  purchasing  power  that  sum  would  now 
be  represented  by  a  million  and  a  quarter. 

A  truly  royal  gift. 

It  was  not  given  to  many  merchants,  "  sounding  al- 
ways the  increase  of  their  winning,"  thus  to  thrive  and 
prosper.  Most  of  them  lived  in  more  modest  dwell- 
ings. All  of  them  lived  in  comparative  discomfort,  ac- 
cording to  modern  ideas.  When  we  read  of  mediaeval 
magnificence  we  must  remember  that  the  standard  of 
what  we  call  comfort  was  much  lower  in  most  respects 
than  at  present.  In  the  matter  of  furniture,  for  in- 
stance, though  the  house  was  splendid  inside  and  out 
with  carvings,  coats  of  arms  painted  and  gilt,  there 


1 82  LONDON 

were  but  two  or  three  beds  in  it,  the  servants  sleeping 
on  the  floor ;  the  bedrooms  were  small  and  dark ;  the 
tables  were  still  laid  on  trestles,  and  removed  when 
the  meal  was  finished ;  there  were  benches  where  we 
have  chairs ;  and  for  carpet  they  had  rushes  or  mats  of 
plaited  straw  ;  and  though  the  tapestry  was  costly, 
the  windows  were  draughty,  and  the  doors  ill-fitting. 
When,  with  the  great  commercial  advance  of  the  four- 
teenth century,  space  by  the  river  became  more  valu- 
able, the  disposition  of  the  Hall,  with  its  little  court, 
became  necessarily  modified.  The  house,  which  was 
warehouse  as  well  as  residence,  ran  up  into  several 
stories  high — the  earliest  maps  of  London  show  many 
such  houses  beside  Queenhithe,  and  in  the  busiest  and 
most  crowded  parts  of  the  City ;  on  every  story  there 
was  a  wide  door  for  the  reception  of  bales  and  crates  ; 
a  rope  and  pulley  were  fixed  to  a  beam  at  the  highest 
gable  for  hoisting  and  lowering  the  goods.  The  front 
of  the  house  was  finely  ornamented  with  carved  wood- 
work. One  may  still  see  such  houses — streets  full  of 
them — in  the  ancient  City  of  Hidelsheim,  near  Han- 
over. 

On  the  river -bank,  exactly  under  what  is  now 
Cannon  Street  Railway  Station,  stood  the  Steelyard, 
Guildae  Aula  Teutonicorum.  In  appearance  it  was  a 
house  of  stone,  with  a  quay  towards  the  river,  a  square 
court,  a  noble  Hall,  and  three  arched  gates  towards 
Thames  Street.  This  was  the  house  of  the  Hanseatic 
League,  whose  merchants  for  three  hundred  years  and 
more  enjoyed  the  monopoly  of  importing  hemp,  corn, 
wax,  steel,  linen  cloths,  and,  in  fact,  carried  on  the 
whole  trade  with  Germany  and  the  Baltic,  so  that 
until  the  London  merchants  pushed  out  their  ships 


PLANTAGENET 


CROSBY    HALL 


into  the  Mediterranean  and  the  Levant  their  foreign 
trade  was  small,  and  their  power  of  gaining  wealth 
small  in  proportion.  This  strange  privilege  granted 
to  foreigners  grew  by  degrees.  At  first,  unless  the 


1 84  LONDON 

foreign  merchants  of  the  Hanse  towns  and  of  Flanders 
and  of  France  had  not  brought  over  their  wares  they 
could  not  have  sold  them,  because  there  were  no  Lon- 
don merchants  to  import  them.  Therefore  they  came, 
and  they  came  to  stay.  They  gradually  obtained 
privileges;  they  were  careful  to  obey  the  laws,  and 
give  no  cause  for  jealousy  or  offence ;  and  they  kept 
their  privileges,  living  apart  in  their  own  college,  till 
Edward  VI.  at  last  took  them  away.  In  memory  of 
their  long  residence  in  the  city,  the  merchants  of 
Hamburg  in  the  reign  or  Queen  Anne  presented  the 
church  where  they  had  worshipped,  All  Hallows  the 
Great,  with  a  magnificent  screen  of  carved  wood.  The 
church,  built  by  Wren  after  the  Fire,  is  a  square  box 
of  no  architectural  pretensions,  but  is  glorified  by  this 
screen. 

The  great  (comparative)  wealth  of  the  City  is  shown 
by  the  proportion  it  was  called  upon  to  pay  towards 
the  king's  loans.  In  1397,  for  instance,  London  was 
assessed  at  £6,666  i$s.  4^.,  while  Bristol,  which  came 
next,  was  called  upon  for  £800  only ;  Norwich  for 
£333,  Boston  for  ^300,  and  Plymouth  for  no  more 
than  £20.  And  in  the  graduated  poll  tax  of  1379, 
the  Lord  Mayor  of  London  had  to  pay  £4 — the  same 
as  an  Earl,  a  Bishop,  or  a  mitred  Abbot,  while  the 
Aldermen  were  regarded  as  on  the  same  line  with 
Barons,  and  paid  £2  each. 

Between  the  merchant  adventurers,  who  sometimes 
entertained  kings  and  had  a  fleet  of  ships  always  on 
the  sea,  and  the  retail  trader  there  was  as  great  a  gulf 
then  as  at  any  after-time.  Between  the  retail  trader, 
who  was  an  employer  of  labor,  and  the  craftsman 
there  was  a  still  greater  gulf.  The  former  lived  in 


PLANTAGENET  185 

plenty  and  in  comfort.  His  house  was  provided  with 
a  spacious  hearth,  and  windows,  of  which  the  upper 
part,  at  least,  was  of  glass.  The  latter  lived  in  one  of 
the  mean  and  low  tenements,  which,  according  to  Dr. 
Brewer,  made  up  the  whole  of  London.  There  were 
a  great  many  of  those,  because  there  are  always  a 
great  many  poor  in  a  large  town.  Nay,  there  were 
narrow  lanes  and  filthy  courts  where  there  were  noth- 
ing but  one-storied  hovels,  built  of  wattle  and  clay, 
the  roof  thatched  with  reeds,  the  fire  burning  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  the  occupants  sleeping  in  old 
Saxon  fashion,  wrapped  in  rugs  around  the  central 
fire.  The  lanes  and  courts  were  narrow  and  unpaved, 
and  filthy  with  every  kind  of  refuse.  In  those  crowded 
and  fetid  streets  the  plague  broke  out,  fevers  always 
lingered,  the  children  died  of  putrid  throat,  and  in 
these  places  began  the  devastating  fires  that  from 
time  to  time  swept  the  City. 

The  main  streets  of  the  City  were  not  mean  at  all; 
they  were  broad,  well  built,  picturesque.  If  here  and 
there  a  small  tenement  reared  its  timbered  and  plas- 
tered front  among  the  tall  gables,  it  added -to  the 
beauty  of  the  street ;  it  broke  the  line.  Take  Chepe, 
for  instance,  the  principal  seat  of  retail  trade.  At 
the  western  end  stood  the  Church  of  St.  Michael  le 
Quern  where  Paternoster  Row  begins.  On  the  north 
side  were  the  churches  of  St.  Peter  West  Chepe,  St. 
Thomas  Aeon,  St.  Mary  Cole  Church,  and  St.  Mil- 
dred. On  the  south  side  were  the  churches  of  St.  Mary 
le  Bow  and  St.  Mary  Woolchurch.  In  the  streets  run- 
ning north  and  south  rose  the  spires  of  twenty  other 
churches.  On  the  west  side  of  St.  Mary  le  Bow  stood 
a  long  stone  gallery,  from  which  the  Queen  and  her 


1 86  LONDON 

ladies  could  witness  the  tournaments  and  the  ridings. 
In  the  middle  was  the  "  Standard,"  with  a  conduit  of 
fresh-water;  there  were  two  crosses,  one  being  that 
erected  by  Edward  I.,  to  mark  a  resting-place  of  his 
dead  Queen.  Round  the  "  Standard  "  were  booths. 
At  the  west  end  of  Chepe  were  selds,  which  are  be- 
lieved to  have  been  open  bazaars  for  the  sale  of  goods. 
Another  cross  stood  at  the  west  end,  close  to  St. 
Michael  le  Quern.  Here  executions  of  citizens  were 
held ;  on  its  broad  road  the  knights  rode  in  tilt  on 
great  days ;  the  stalls  were  crowded  with  those  who 
came  to  look  on  and  to  buy,  the  street  was  noisy  with 
the  voices  of  those  who  displayed  their  wares  and  called 
upon  the  folk  to  buy — buy — buy.  You  may  hear  the 
butchers  in  Clare  Market  or  the  costers  in  Whitecross 
Street  keeping  up  the  custom  to  the  present  day. 
The  citizens  walked  and  talked ;  the  Alderman  went 
along  in  state,  accompanied  by  his  officers ;  they 
brought  out  prisoners  and  put  them  into  the  pillory ; 
the  church  bells  clashed,  and  chimed,  and  tolled ; 
bright  cloth  of  scarlet  hung  from  the  upper  windows 
if  it  wts  a  feast  day,  or  if  the  Mayor  and  Aldermen 
had  a  riding;  the  streets  were  bright  with  the  colors 
of  that  many-colored  time,  when  the  men  vied  with 
the  women  in  bravery  of  attire,  and  when  all  classes 
spent  upon  raiment  sums  of  money,  in  proportion  to 
the  rest  of  their  expenditure,  which  sober  nine- 
teenth-century folk  can  hardly  believe.  Chaucer  is 
full  of  the  extravagance  in  dress.  There  is  the  young 
squire — 

Embroidered  was  he  as  if  it  were  a  mead 
All  full  of  freshest  flowers,  white  and  red. 


PLANTAGENET  189 

Or  the  carpenter's  wife — 

A  seynt  [girdle]  she  wered  barred  all  of  silk 
In  barm  cloth  eke  as  white  as  morne  milk 
Upon  her  lendes  [loins]  full  of  many  a  gore. 
White  was  her  smock  and  browded  all  before, 
And  eke  behind  on  her  coler  about 
Of  cole  black  silk  within  and  eke  without. 

Or  the  wife  of  Bath,  with  her  scarlet  stockings  and 
her  fine  kerchiefs.  And  the  knights  decked  their 
horses  as  gayly  as  themselves.  And  the  city  notables 
went  clad  in  gowns  of  velvet  or  silk  lined  with  fur; 
their  hats  were  of  velvet  with  gold  lace ;  their  doub- 
lets were  of  rich  silk ;  they  carried  thick  gold  chains 
about  their  necks,  and  massive  gold  rings  upon  their 
fingers. 

With  all  this  outward  show,  this  magnificence  of 
raiment,  these  evidences  of  wealth,  would  one  mark 
the  small  tenements  which  here  and  there,  even  in 
Chepe,  stood  between  the  churches  and  the  substan- 
tial merchants'  houses?  We  measure  the  splendors 
of  a  city  by  its  best,  and  not  by  its  worst. 

The  magnates  of  London,  from  generation  to  gen- 
eration, showed  far  more  wisdom,  tenacity,  and  clear- 
ness of  vision  than  can  be  found  in  the  annals  of  Ven- 
ice, Genoa,  or  any  other  mediaeval  city.  Above  all 
things,  they  maintained  the  city  liberties  and  the 
rights  obtained  from  successive  kings  ;  yet  they  were 
always  loyal  so  long  as  loyalty  was  possible ;  when 
that  was  no  longer  possible,  as  in  the  case  of  Richard 
II.,  they  threw  the  whole  weight  of  their  wealth  and 
influence  into  the  other  side.  If  fighting  was  wanted, 
they  were  ready  to  send  out  their  youths  to  fight- 
nay,  to  join  the  army  themselves ;  witness  the  story 


ICjO  LONDON 

of  Sir  John  Philpot,  Mayor  in  1378.  There  was  a  cer- 
tain Scottish  adventurer  named  Mercer.  This  man 
had  gotten  together  a  small  fleet  of  ships,  with  which 
he  harassed  the  North  Sea  and  did  great  havoc  among 
the  English  merchantmen.  Nor  could  any  remon- 
strance addressed  to  the  Crown  effect  any  redress. 
What  was  to  be  done  ?  Clearly,  if  trade  was  to  be  car- 
ried on  at  all,  this  enemy  must  be  put  down.  There- 
fore, without  much  ado,  the  gallant  Mayor  gathered 
together  at  his  own  expense  a  company  of  a  thousand 
stout  fellows,  put  them  on  board,  and  sallied  forth, 
himself  their  admiral,  to  fight  this  piratical  Scot.  He 
found  him,  in  fact,  in  Scarborough  Bay  with  his  prizes. 
Sir  John  fell  upon  him  at  once,  slew  him  and  most  of 
his  men,  took  all  his  ships,  including  the  prizes,  and 
returned  to  the  port  of  London  with  his  spoils,  includ- 
ing fifteen  Spanish  ships  which  had  joined  the  Scotch- 
man. Next  year  the  king  was  in  want  of  other  help. 
The  arms  and  armor  of  a  thousand  men  were  in  pawn. 
Sir  John  took  them  out.  And  because  the  king  want- 
ed as  many  ships  as  he  could  get  for  his  expedition 
into  France,  Sir  John  gave  him  all  his  own,  with  Mer- 
cer's ships  and  the  Spanish  prizes. 

To  treat  adequately  of  the  foreign  trade  of  the  city 
during  these  centuries  would  require  a  volume.  It 
has,  in  fact,  received  more  than  a  single  volume.1  The 
English  merchantman  sailed  everywhere.  There  were 
commercial  treaties  with  Brittany,  Burgundy,  Portu- 
gal, Castile,  Genoa,  and  Venice.  English  merchants 
who  traded  with  Prussia  were  empowered  by  Henry 
IV.  to  meet  together  and  elect  a  governor  for  the  ad- 

1  Especially  Cunningham's  Growth  of  English  Industry  and  Commerce. 


PLANTAGENET  19! 

justment  of  quarrels  and  the  reparation  of  injuries. 
The  same  privilege  was  extended  to  those  who  traded 
with  Holland,  Zealand,  Brabant,  Flanders,  Norway, 
Sweden,  and  Denmark.  The  Hanseatic  merchants  en- 
joyed the  privileges  on  the  condition  —  not  always 
obtained  —  that  English  merchants  should  have  the 
same  rights  as  the  Hanseatic  League.  It  is  easy  to  un- 


GERRARD  S    HALL. 


derstand  what  commodities  were  imported  from  these 
countries.  The  trade  was  carried  on  under  the  condi- 
tions of  continued  fighting.  First  the  seas  swarmed 
with  Scotch ;  French  and  Flemish  ships  were  always 
on  the  lookout  for  English  merchant  vessels  —  there 
was  no  peace  on  the  water.  Then  there  were  English 
pirates  known  as  rovers  of  the  sea,  who  sailed  about, 
landing  on  the  coasts,  pillaging  small  towns,  and  rob- 
bing farms.  Sandwich  was  burned,  Southampton  was 
burned.  London  protected  herself  with  booms  and 
chains.  The  merchant  vessels  for  safety  sailed  in 


IQ2  LONDON 

fleets.  Again,  it  was  sometimes  dangerous  to  be  resi- 
dent in  a  foreign  town  in  time  of  war;  in  1429  Bergen 
was  destroyed  by  the  Danes,  and  the  English  mer- 
chants were  massacred ;  about  the  same  time  English 
seamen  ravaged  Ireland  and  murdered  the  Royal  Bail- 
iff ;  reprisals  and  quarrels  and  claims  were  constantly 
going  on.  Yet  trade  increased,  and  wealth  with  it. 
Other  foreign  merchants  settled  in  London  besides 
the  Hansards.  Florentines  came  to  buy  wool,  and  to 
lend  money,  and  to  sell  chains  and  rings  and  jewelled 
work.  Genoese  came  to  buy  alum  and  woad  and  to 
sell  weapons.  Venetians  came  to  sell  spices,  drugs, 
and  fine  manufactured  things. 

The  grete  galleys  of  Veness  and  Fflorence 

Be  wel  ladene  with  thynges  of  complacence, 

All  spicerye  and  of  groceres  ware, 

Wyth  swete  wynes  alle  manere  of  cheffare. 

Apes  and  japes  and  marmettes  taylede, 

Trifles — trifles,  that  lytel  have  avaylede. 

And  thynges  with  wyche  they  fetely  blere  our  eye, 

With  thynges  not  enduring  that  we  bye. 

Ffor  moche  of  thys  cheffare  that  is  wastable, 

Myght  be  forebore  for  diere  and  dissevable. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  fourteenth  century  began 
the  first  grumblings  of  the  great  religious  storm  that 
was  to  burst  upon  the  world  a  hundred  years  later. 
The  common  sort  of  Londoners,  attached  to  their 
Church  and  to  its  services,  were  as  yet  profoundly  or- 
thodox and  unquestioning.  But  it  is  certain  that  in 
the  year  1393  the  Archbishop  of  York  complained  for- 
mally to  the  king  of  the  Mayor,  Aldermen,  and  Sher- 
iffs— Whittington  was  then  one  of  the  Sheriffs — that 
they  were  male  creduli,  that  is,  of  little  faith  ;  uphold- 


PLANTAGENET  193 

ers  of  Lollards,  detractors  of  religious  persons,  detain- 
ers of  tithes,  and  defrauders  of  the  poor.  When  per- 
secutions, however,  began  in  earnest,  not  a  single 
citizen  of  position  was  charged  with  heresy.  Proba- 
bly the  Archbishop's  charge  was  based  upon  some 
quarrel  over  tithes  and  Church  dues.  At  the  same 
time,  no  one  who  has  read  Chaucer  can  fail  to  under- 
stand that  men's  minds  were  made  uneasy  by  the 
scandals  of  religion,  the  contrast  between  profession 
and  practice.  It  required  no  knowledge  of  theology 
to  remark  that  the  monk  who  kept  the  best  of  horses 
in  his  stable  and  the  best  of  hounds  in  his  kennel,  and 
rode  to  the  chase  as  gallantly  attired  as  any  young 
knight,  was  a  strange  follower  of  the  Benedictine  rule. 
Nor  was  it  necessary  to  be  a  divine  in  order  to  com- 
pare the  lives  of  the  Franciscans  with  their  vows. 
Yet  the  authority  of  the  Church  seemed  undiminished, 
while  its  wealth,  its  estates,  its  rank,  and  its  privileges 
gave  it  enormous  power.  It  is  not  pretended  that 
the  merchants  of  London  were  desirous  of  new  doc- 
trines, or  of  any  tampering  with  the  mass,  or  any  low- 
ering of  sacerdotal  pretensions.  Yet  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  they  desired  reform  in  some  shape,  and  it 
seems  as  if  they  saw  the  best  hope  of  reform  in  rais- 
ing the  standard  of  education.  Probably  the  old 
monastery  schools  had  fallen  into  decay.  We  find, 
for  instance,  a  simultaneous  movement  in  this  direc- 
tion long  before  Henry  VI.  began  to  found  and  to 
endow  his  schools.  Whittington  bequeathed  a  sum 
of  money  to  create  a  library  for  the  Grey  Friars ;  his 
close  friend  and  one  of  his  executors,  John  Carpenter, 
Rector  of  St.  Mary  Magdalen,  founded  the  City  of 
London  School,  now  more  flourishing  and  of  greater 
13 


IQ4  LONDON 

use  than  ever;  another  friend  of  Whittington,  Sir 
John  Nicol,  Master  of  the  College  of  St.  Thomas 
Aeon,  petitioned  the  Parliament  for  leave  to  establish 
four  schools ;  Whittington's  own  company,  the  Mer- 
cers, founded  a  school — which  still  exists — upon  his 
death.  The  merchants  rebuilt  churches,  bought  ad- 
vowsons  and  gave  them  to  the  corporation,  founded 
charities,  and  left  doctrine  to  scholars.  Yet  the  cen- 
tury which  contains  such  men  as  Wycliff,  Chaucer, 
Gower,  Occleve,  William  of  Wykeham,  Fabian,  and 
others,  was  not  altogether  one  of  blind  and  unques- 
tioning obedience.  And  it  is  worthy  of  remark  that 
the  first  Master  of  Whittington's  Hospital  was  that 
Reginald  Pecock  who  afterwards,  as  Bishop  of  Chi- 
chester,  was  charged  with  Lollardism,  and  imprisoned 
for  life  as  a  punishment.  He  was  kept  in  a  single 
closed  chamber  in  Thorney  Abbey,  Isle  of  £ly.  He 
was  never  allowed  out  of  this  room ;  no  one  was  to 
speak  with  him  except  the  man  who  waited  upon  him  ; 
he  was  to  have  neither  paper,  pen,  ink,  or  books,  ex- 
cept a  Bible,  a  mass-book,  a  psalter,  and  a  legendary. 

Among  the  city  worthies  of  that  time  may  be  in- 
troduced Sir  William  Walworth,  the  slayer  of  Jack 
Cade  ;  Sir  William  Sevenoke,  the  first  known  instance 
of  the  poor  country  lad  of  humble  birth  working  his 
way  to  the  front ;  he  was  also  the  first  to  found  and 
endow  a  grammar-school  for  his  native  town  ;  Sir  Rob- 
ert Chichele,  whose  brother  Henry  was  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  and  founder  of  All  Souls',  Oxford  ;  this 
Robert,  whose  house  was  on  the  site  of  Bakers'  Hall 
in  Harp  Lane,  provided  by  his  will  that  on  his  com- 
memoration day  two  thousand  four  hundred  poor 
householders  of  the  city  should  be  regaled  with  a  din- 


PLANTAGENET 


197 


ner  and  have  twopence  in  money ;  Sir  John  Rainwell, 
who  left  houses  and  lands  to  discharge  the  tax  called 
the  Fifteenth  in  three  parishes;  Sir  John  Wells,  who 
brought  water  from  Tyburn ;  and  Sir  William  Est- 
field,  who  brought  water  from  Highbury.  Other  ex- 
amples show  that  the  time  for  endowing  monasteries 
had  passed  away.  When  William  Elsing,  early  in  the 
fourteenth  century,  thought  of  doing  something  with 
his  money,  he  did 
not  leave  it  to 
the  Franciscans 
for  masses,  but  he 
endowed  a  hospi- 
tal for  a  hundred 
blind  men ;  and 
a  few  years  later 
John  Barnes  gave 
the  city  a  strong 
box  with  three 
locks,  containing 
a  thousand  marks, 
which  were  to  be 
lent  to  young 
men  beginning 

business — an  excellent  gift.  When  there  was  a  great 
dearth  of  grain,  it  was  the  Lord  Mayor  who  fitted 
out  ships  at  his  own  expense  and  brought  corn  from 
Prussia,  which  lowered  the  price  of  flower  by  one- 
half.  In  the  acts  of  these  grave  magistrates  one  can 
read  the  deep  love  they  bore  to  the  City,  their  ear- 
nest striving  for  the  administration  with  justice  of 
just  laws,  for  the  maintenance  of  good  work,  for  the 
relief  of  the  poor,  for  the  provision  of  water,  and  for 


THE   THAMES    FRONT,  A.D.   1540 


198  LONDON 

education.  Lollardism  was  nothing  to  them.  What 
concerned  them  in  religion  was  the  luxury,  the  sloth, 
and  the  scandalous  lives  of  the  religious.  Order  they 
loved,  because  it  is  only  by  the  maintenance  of  order 
that  a  city  can  flourish.  Honesty  in  work  of  all  kinds 
they  loved,  so  that  while  they  hated  the  man  who 
pretended  to  do  true  work  and  proffered  false  work, 
it  grieved  and  shamed  them  to  see  one  who  professed 
the  life  of  purity  wallow  in  wickedness,  like  a  hog  in 
mud.  Obedience  they  required,  because  without  obe- 
dience there  is  no  government.  As  for  the  working- 
man,  the  producer,  the  servant,  having  any  share  in 
the  profits  or  any  claim  to  payment  beyond  his  wage, 
such  a  thought  never  entered  the  head  of  Whitting- 
ton  or  Se,venoke.  They  were  rulers  ;  they  were  mas- 
ters ;  they  paid  the  wage  ;  they  laid  their  hands  upon 
the  profits. 

Tradition — which  is  always  on  the  side  of  the  weak 
— maintains  that  the  great  merchants  of  the  past,  for 
the  most  part,  made  their  way  upward  from  the  poor- 
est and  most  penniless  conditions.  They  came  from 
the  plough-tail  or  from  the  mechanic's  shop ;  they  en- 
tered the  city  paved  with  gold,  friendless,  with  no 
more  than  twopence,  if  so  much,  in  their  pockets ; 
they  received  scant  favor  and  put  up  with  rough  fare. 
Then  tradition  makes  a  jump,  and  shows  them,  on 
the  next  lifting  of  the  curtain,  prosperous,  rich,  and  in 
great  honor.  The  typical  London  merchant  is  Dick 
Whittington,  whose  history  was  blazoned  in  the  cheap 
books  for  all  to  read.  One  is  loath  to  disturb  venera- 
ble beliefs,  but  the  facts  of  history  are  exactly  the 
opposite.  The  merchant  adventurer,  diligent  in  his 
business,  and  therefore  rewarded,  as  the  wise  man 


PLANTAGENET 


199 


prophesied  for  him,  by  standing  before  princes,  though 
he  began  life  as  a  prentice,  also  began  it  as  a  gentle- 
man. He  belonged,  at  the  outset,  to  a  good  family, 
and  had  good  friends  both  in  the  country  and  the 
town.  Piers  Plowman  never  could  and  never  did  rise 
to  great  eminence  in  the  city.  The  exceptions,  which 
are  few  indeed,  prove  the  rule.  Against  such  a  case 
as  Sevenoke,  the  son  of  poor  parents,  who  rose  to  be 
Lord  Mayor,  we  have  a  hundred  others  in  which  the 
successful  merchant  starts  with  the  advantage  of  gen- 
tle birth.  Take,  for  example,  the  case  of  Whitting- 
ton  himself. 

He  was  the  younger  son  of  a  Gloucestershire  coun- 
try gentleman,  Sir  William  Whittington,  a  knight  who 
was  outlawed  for  some  offence.  His  estate  was  at  a 
village  called  Pauntley.  In  the  church  may  still  be 
seen  the  shield  of  Whittington  impaling  Fitzwarren — 
Richard's  wife  was  Alice  Fitzwarren.  His  mother 
belonged  to  the  well-known  Devonshire  family  of 
Mansell,  and  was  a  cousin  of  the  Fitzwarrens.  The 
Whittingtons  were  thus  people  of  position  and  con- 
sideration, of  knightly  rank,  armigeri,  living  on  their 
own  estates,  which  were  sufficient  but  not  large. 

For  a  younger  son  in  the  fourteenth  century  the 
choice  of  a  career  was  limited.  He  might  enter  the 
service  of  a  great  lord  and  follow  his  fortunes.  In 
that  turbulent  time  there  was  fighting  to  be  had  at 
home  as  well  as  in  France,  and  honor  to  be  acquired, 
with  rank  and  lands,  by  those  who  were  fortunate. 
He  might  join  the  livery  of  the  king.  He  might 
enter  the  Church :  but  youths  of  gentle  blood  did  not 
in  the  fourteenth  century  flock  readily  to  the  Church. 
He  might  remain  on  the  family  estate  and  become  a 


200  LONDON 

bailiff.  He  might  go  up  to  London  and  become  a 
lawyer.  There  were  none  of  the  modern  professions — 
no  engineers,  architects,  bankers,  journalists,  painters, 
novelists,  or  dramatists ;  but  there  was  trade. 

Young  Dick  Whittington  therefore  chose  to  follow 
trade  ;  rather  that  line  of  life  was  chosen  for  him.  He 
was  sent  to  London  under  charge  of  carriers,  and 
placed  in  the  house  of  his  cousin,  Sir  John  Fitzwarren, 
also  a  gentleman  before  he  was  a  merchant,  as  an  ap- 
prentice. As  he  married  his  master's  daughter,  it  is 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  he  inherited  a  business, 
which  he  subsequently  improved  and  developed  enor- 
mously. If  we  suppose  a  single  man  to  be  the  owner 
of  the  Cunard  Line  of  steamers,  running  the  cargoes 
on  his  own  venture  and  for  his  own  profit,  we  may 
understand  something  of  Whittington's  position  in 
the  city.  The  story  of  the  cat  is  persistently  at- 
tached to  his  name ;  it  begins  immediately  after  his 
death;  it  was  figured  on  the  buildings  which  his  ex- 
ecutors erected;  it  formed  part  of  the  decorations  of 
the  family  mansion  at  Gloucester.  It  is  therefore  im- 
possible to  avoid  the  conclusion  that  he  did  himself 
associate  the  sale  of  a  cat — then  a  creature  of  some 
value  and  rarity — with  the  foundation  of  his  fortunes. 
Here,  however,  we  have  only  to  do  with  the  fact  that 
Whittington  was  of  gentle  birth,  and  that  he  was  ap- 
prenticed to  a  man  also  of  gentle  birth. 

Here,  again,  is  another  proof  of  my  assertion  that 
the  London  merchant  was  generally  a  gentleman. 
That  good  old  antiquary,  Stow,  to  whom  we  owe  so 
much,  not  only  gives  an  account  of  all  the  monuments 
in  the  city  churches,  with  the  inscriptions  and  verses 
which  were  graven  upon  them,  but  he  also  describes 


PLANTAGENET  2O3 

the  shields  of  all  those  who  were  armigeri — entitled  to 
carry  arms.  Remember  that  a  shield  was  not  a  thing 
which  could  in  those  days  be  assumed  at  pleasure. 
The  Heralds  made  visitations  of  the  counties,  and  ex- 
amined into  the  pretensions  of  every  man  who  bore  a 
coat  of  arms.  You  were  either  entitled  to  a  coat  of 
arms  or  you  were  not.  To  parade  a  shield  without  a 
proper  title  was  much  as  if  a  man  should  in  these 
days  pretend  to  be  an  Earl  or  a  Baronet.  If  one 
wants  a  shield  it  is  only  necessary  now  to  invent  one ; 
or  the  Heralds'  College  will  with  great  readiness  con- 
nect a  man  with  some  knightly  family  and  so  confer 
a  title :  formerly  the  Herald  could  only  invent  or  find 
a  coat  of  arms  by  order  of  the  Sovereign,  the  Fount- 
ain of  Honor.  By  granting  a  shield,  let  us  remember, 
the  king  admitted  another  family  into  the  first  rank 
of  gentlehood.  For  instance,  when  the  news  of  Cap- 
tain Cook's  death  reached  England,  King  George  III. 
granted  a  coat  of  arms  to  his  family,  who  were  there- 
by promoted  to  the  first  stage  of  nobility.  This, 
however,  seems  to  have  been  the  last  occasion  of  such 
a  grant. 

What  do  we  find,  then  ?  This  very  remarkable 
fact.  The  churches  are  full  of  monuments  to  dead 
citizens  who  are  armigeri.  Take  two  churches  at 
hazard.  The  first  is  St.  Leonard's,  Milk  Street.  Here 
were  buried,  among  others,  John  Johnson,  citizen  and 
butcher,  died  1282,  his  coat  of  arms  displayed  upon 
his  tomb;  also,  with  his  family  shield,  Richard  Ruye- 
ner,  citizen  and  fish-monger,  died  1361.  The  second 
church  is  St.  Peter's,  Cornhill.  Here  the  following 
monuments  have  their  shields:  that  of  Thomas  Lori- 
mer,  citizen  and  mercer ;  of  Thomas  Born,  citizen  and 


204  LONDON 

draper;  of  Henry  Acle,  citizen  and  grocer;  of  Henry 
Palmer,  citizen  and  pannarius ;  of  Henry  Aubertner, 
citizen  and  tailor ;  and  of  Timothy  Westrow,  citizen 
and  grocer.  In  short,  I  do  not  say  that  the  retail 
traders  were  of  knightly  family,  but  that  the  great 
merchants,  the  mercers,  adventurers,  and  leaders  of 
the  Companies  were  gentlemen  by  descent,  and  ad- 
mitted to  their  close  society  only  their  own  friends, 
cousins,  and  sons. 

The  residence  and  yearly  influx  of  the  Barons  and 
their  followers  into  London  not  only,  as  we  have  seen, 
kept  the  city  in  touch  with  the  country,  and  pre- 
vented it  from  becoming  a  mere  centre  of  trade,  but 
it  also  kept  the  country  in  touch  with  the  City.  The 
livery  of  the  great  Lords  compared  their  own  lot,  at 
best  an  honorable  servitude,  with  that  of  the  free  and 
independent  merchants  who  had  no  over-lord  but  the 
King,  and  were  themselves  as  rich  as  any  of  the 
greatest  Barons  in  the  country.  They  saw  among 
them  many  from  their  own  country,  lads  whom  they 
remembered  in  the  hunting-  field,  or  playing  in  the 
garden  before  the  timbered  old  house  in  the  country, 
of  gentle  birth  and  breeding;  once,  like  themselves, 
poor  younger  sons,  now  rich  and  of  great  respect. 
When  they  went  home  they  talked  of  this,  and  fired 
the  blood  of  the  boys,  so  that  while  some  stayed  at 
home  and  some  put  on  the  livery  of  a  Baron,  others 
went  up  to  London  and  served  their  time.  So  that, 
when  we  assign  a  city  origin  to  the  families  of  Cov- 
entry, Leigh,  Ducie,  Pole,  Bouverie,  Boleyn,  Legge, 
Capel,  Osborne,  Craven,  and  Ward,  it  would  be  well 
to  inquire,  if  possible,  to  what  stock  belonged  the 
original  citizen,  the  founder  of  each.  Trade  in  the 


PLANTAGENET  205 

fourteenth  century,  and  long  afterwards,  did  not  de- 
grade a  gentleman.  That  idea  was  of  an  earlier  and 
of  a  later  date.  It  became  a  law  during  the  last  cen- 
tury, when  the  county  families  began  to  grow  rich 
and  the  value  of  land  increased.  It  is  fast  disappear- 
ing again,  and  the  city  is  once  more  receiving  the 
sons  of  noble  and  gentle.  The  change  should  be 
welcomed  as  helping  to  destroy  the  German  notions 
of  caste  and  class  and  the  hereditary  superiority  of 
the  ennobled  House. 

As  for  the  political  power  of  London  under  the 
Plantagenets,  it  will  be  sufficient  to  refer  to  ^Froissart. 
"  The  English,"  says  the  chronicler,  unkindly,  "  are  the 
worst  people  in  the  world,  the  most  obstinate,  and  the 
most  presumptuous,  and  of  all  England  the  London- 
ers are  the  leaders ;  for,  to  say  the  truth,  they  are 
very  powerful  in  men  and  in  wealth.  In  the  city  and 
neighborhood  there  are  25,000  men,  completely  armed 
from  head  to  foot,  and  full  30,000  archers.  This  is  a 
great  force,  and  they  are  bold  and  courageous,  and  the 
more  blood  is  spilled  the  greater  is  their  courage." 
The  deposition  of  King  Edward  II.  and  that  of  King 
Richard  II.  illustrate  at  once  the  "presumption  and 
obstinacy  "  and  the  power  of  the  citizens.  Later  on, 
the  depositions  of  Charles  I.  and  of  James  II.  were 
also  largely  assisted  by  these  presumptuous  citizens. 

The  first  case,  that  of  Edward  II.,  is  thus  summed 
up  by  Froissart : 

When  the  Londoners  perceived  King  Edward  so  besotted 
with  the  Despencers,  they  provided  a  remedy,  by  sending  se- 
cretly to  Queen  Isabella  information,  that  if  she  would  collect 
a  body  of  300  armed  men,  and  land  with  them  in  England,  she 
would  find  the  citizens  of  London  and  the  majority  of  the  no- 


206  LONDON 

bles  and  commonalty  ready  to  join  her  and  place  her  on  the 
throne.  The  Queen  found  a  friend  in  Sir  John  of  Hainault, 
Lord  of  Beaumont  and  Chimay,  and  brother  to  Count  William 
of  Hainault,  who  undertook,  through  affection  and  pity,  to  car- 
ry her  and  her  son  back  to  England.  He  exerted  himself  so 
much  in  her  service  with  knights  and  squires,  that  he  collected 
a  body  of  400  and  landed  them  in  England,  to  the  great  com- 
fort of  the  Londoners.  The  citizens  joined  them,  for,  without 
their  assistance,  they  would  never  have  accomplished  the  en- 
terprise. King  Edward  was  made  prisoner  at  Bristol,  and  car- 
ried to  Berkeley  Castle,  where  he  died.  His  advisers  were  all 
put  to  death  with  much  cruelty,  and  the  same  day  King  Ed- 
ward III.  was  crowned  King  of  England  in  the  Palace  of  West- 
minster. 

When,  in  the  case  of  Richard  II.,  the  time  of  ex- 
postulation had  passed,  and  that  for  armed  resistance 
or  passive  submission  had  arrived,  the  Londoners  re- 
membered their  action  in  the  reign  of  Edward  II., 
and  perceived  that  if  they  did  not  move  they  would 
be  all  ruined  and  destroyed.  They  therefore  resolved 
upon  bringing  over  from  France,  Henry,  Earl  of  Der- 
by, and  entreated  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  to 
go  over  secretly  and  invite  him,  promising  the  whole 
strength  of  London  for  his  service.  As  we  know, 
Henry  accepted  and  came  over.  On  his  landing  he 
sent  a  special  messenger  to  ride  post  haste  to  London 
with  the  news.  The  journey  was  performed  in  less 
than  twenty- four  hours.  The  Lord  Mayor  sent  the 
news  about  in  all  directions,  and  the  Londoners  pre- 
pared to  give  their  future  king  a  right  joyous  welcome. 
They  poured  out  along  the  roads  to  meet  him,  and  all 
men,  women,  and  children  clad  in  their  best  clothes. 
"  The  Mayor  of  London  rode  by  the  side  of  the  Earl, 
and  said,  '  See,  my  Lord,  how  much  the  people  are 


PLANTAGENET  20? 

rejoiced  at  your  arrival.'  As  the  Earl  advanced,  he 
bowed  his  head  to  the  right  and  left,  and  noticed  all 
comers  with  kindness.  .  .  .  The  whole  town  was  so  re- 
joiced at  the  Earl's  return  that  every  shop  was  shut 
and  no  more  work  done  than  if  it  had  been  Easter  Day." 

The  army  which  Henry  led  to  the  west  was  an 
army  of  Londoners,  twelve  thousand  strong.  It  was 
to  the  Tower  of  London  that  the  fallen  King  was 
brought ;  and  it  was  in  the  Guildhall  that  the  articles 
drawn  up  against  the  King  were  publicly  read ;  and  it 
was  in  Cheapside  that  the  four  knights,  Richard's 
principal  advisers,  were  beheaded.  At  the  Coronation 
feast  the  King  sat  at  the  first  table,  having  with  him 
the  two  archbishops  and  seventeen  bishops.  At  the 
second  table  sat  the  five  great  peers  of  England.  At 
the  third  were  the  principal  citizens  of  London ;  be- 
low them  sat  the  knights.  The  place  assigned  to  the 
city  is  significant.  But  London  had  not  yet  done 
enough  for  Henry  of  Lancaster.  The  Earls  of  Hunt- 
ingdon and  Salisbury  attempted  a  rebellion  against 
him.  Said  the  Mayor,  "  Sire,  we  have  made  you  king, 
and  king  you  shall  be."  And  King  he  remained. 

It  was  in  this  fourteenth  century  that  the  city  ex- 
perienced the  most  important  change  in  the  whole 
history  of  her  constitution,  more  important  than  the 
substitution  of  the  Mayor  and  Aldermen  for  the  port- 
reeve and  sheriff,  though  that  was  nothing  less  than 
the  passage  from  the  feudal  county  to  the  civic  com- 
munity. The  new  thing  was  the  formation  of  the 
city  companies,  which  incorporated  each  trade  formal- 
ly, and  gave  the  fullest  powers  to  the  governing  body 
over  wages,  hours  of  labor,  output,  and  everything 
which  concerned  the  welfare  of  each  craft. 


2O8  LONDON 

There  had  been  many  attempts  made  at  combina- 
tion. Men  at  all  times  have  been  sensible  of  the  ad- 
vantages of  combining ;  at  all  times  and  in  every  trade 
there  is  the  same  difficulty,  that  of  persuading  every- 
body to  forego  an  apparent  present  advantage  for  a 
certain  benefit  in  the  future ;  there  are  always  black- 
legs, yet  the  cause  of  combination  advances. 

The  history  of  the  city  companies  is  that  of  combi- 
nation so  successfully  carried  out  that  it  became  part 
of  the  constitution  and  government  of  the  city  ;  but, 
which  was  not  foreseen  at  the  outset,  combination  in 
the  interests  of  the  masters,  not  of  the  men. 

The  trades  had  long  formed  associations  which  they 
called  guilds.  These,  for  some  appearance  of  inde- 
pendence, began  to  arouse  suspicion.  Kings  have 
never  regarded  any  combination  of  their  subjects  with 
approbation.  The  guilds  were  ostensibly  religious  ; 
they  had  each  a  patron  saint — St.  Martin,  for  instance, 
protected  the  saddlers ;  St.  Anthony,  the  grocers — 
and  they  held  an  annual  festival  on  their  saint's  day. 
But  they  must  be  licensed  ;  eighteen  such  guilds  were 
fined  for  establishing  themselves  without  a  license. 
Those  which  were  licensed  paid  for  the  privilege. 
The  most  important  of  them  was  the  Guild  of  Weav- 
ers, which  was  authorized  by  Henry  II.  to  regulate 
the  trades  of  cloth- workers,  drapers,  tailors,  and  all 
the  various  crafts  and  "  mysteries "  that  belong  to 
clothes.  This  guild  became  so  powerful  that  it  threat- 
ened to  rival  in  authority  the  governing  body.  It 
was  therefore  suppressed  by  King  John,  the  different 
trades  afterwards  combining  separately  to  form  their 
own  companies. 

We  are  not  writing  a  history  of  London,  otherwise 


PLANTAGENET  209 

the  rise  and  growth  of  the  City  companies  would  form 
a  most  interesting  chapter.  It  has  been  done  in  a 
brief  and  convenient  form  by  Loftie,  in  his  little  book 
on  London  (Historic  Towns  Series).  Very  curious  and 
suggestive  reading  it  is.  At  the  period  with  which 
we  are  now  concerned,  the  end  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, the  companies  were  rapidly  forming  and  present- 
ing regulations  for  the  approval  and  license  of  the 
Mayor  and  Aldermen.  By  the  year  1363  there  were 
thirty-two  companies  already  formed  whose  laws  and 
regulations  had  received  the  approbation  of  the  King. 
Let  us  take  those  of  the  Company  of  Glovers.  They 
are  briefly  as  follows : 

(1)  None  but  a  freeman  of  the  City  shall  make  or 
sell  gloves. 

(2)  No  glover  shall  be  admitted  to  the  freedom  of 
the  City  unless  with  the  assent  of  the  Wardens  of  the 
trade. 

(3)  No  one  shall  entice   away  the   servant  of  an- 
other. 

(4)  If  a  servant  in  the  trade  shall  make  away  with 
his  master's  chattels  to  the  value  of  twelvepence,  the 
Wardens  shall  make  good  the  loss ;  and  if  the  servant 
refuse  to  be  adjudged  upon  by  the  Wardens,  he  shall 
be  taken  before  the  Mayor  and  Aldermen. 

(5)  No  one  shall  sell  his  goods  by  candlelight. 

(6)  Any  false  work  found  shall  be  taken  before  the 
Mayor  and  Aldermen  by  the  Wardens. 

(7)  All  things  touching  the  trade  within  the  City  be- 
tween those  who  are  not  freemen  shall  be  forfeited. 

(8)  Journeymen  shall  be  paid  their  present  rate  of 
wages. 

(a)  Persons  who  entice  away  journeymen  glovers  to 

14 


210  LONDON 

make  gloves  in  their  own  houses  shall  be  brought  be- 
fore the  Mayor  and  Aldermen. 

(10)  Any  one  of  the  trade  who  refuses  to  obey  these 
regulations  shall  be  brought  before  the  Mayor  and 
Aldermen. 

Observe,  upon  these  laws,  first,  that  the  fourth  sim- 
ply transfers  the  master's  right  to  chastise  his  servant 
to  the  governing  body  of  the  company.  This  seems 
to  put  the  craftsmen  in  a  better  position.  Here,  ap- 
parently, is  combination  carried  to  the  fullest.  All 
the  glovers  in  the  City  unite ;  no  one  shall  make  or 
sell  gloves  except  their  own  members;  the  company 
shall  order  the  rate  of  wages  and  the  admission  of  ap- 
prentices ;  no  glover  shall  work  for  private  persons,  or 
for  any  one,  except  by  order  of  the  company.  Here 
is  absolute  protection  of  trade  and  absolute  command 
of  trade.  Unfortunately,  the  Wardens  and  court  were 
not  the  craftsmen,  but  the  masters.  Therefore  the 
regulations  of  trade  were  very  quickly  found  to  serve 
the  enrichment  of  the  masters  and  the  repression  of 
the  craftsmen.  And  if  the  latter  formed  "  covins " 
or  conspiracies  for  the  improvement  of  wages,  they 
very  soon  found  out  that  such  associations  were  put 
down  with  the  firmest  hand.  To  be  brought  before 
the  Mayor  and  Aldermen  meant,  unless  submission 
was  made  and  accepted,  expulsion  from  the  City.  So 
long  as  the  conditions  of  the  time  allowed,  the  com- 
panies created  a  Paradise  for  the  master.  The  work- 
man was  suppressed  ;  he  could  not  combine  ;  he  could 
not  live  except  on  the  terms  imposed  by  his  com- 
pany: if  he  rebelled  he  was  thrust  out  of  the  City 
gates.  The  jurisdiction  of  the  City,  however,  ceased 
at  the  walls  ;  when  a  greater  London  began  to  grow 


PLANTAGENET  211 

outside  Cripplegate,  Bishopsgate,  and  Aldgate,  and 
on  the  reclaimed  marshes  of  Westminster  and  along 
the  river-bank,  craftsmen  not  of  any  company  could 
settle  down  and  work  as  they  please.  But  they  had 
to  find  a  market,  which  might  be  impossible  except 
within  the  City,  where  they  were  not  admitted.  There- 
fore the  companies,  as  active  guardians  and  jealous 
promoters  of  their  trades,  fulfilled  their  original  pur- 
poses a  long  while,  and  enabled  many  generations  of 
masters  to  grow  rich  upon  the  work  of  their  servants. 

Every  company  was  governed  by  its  Wardens.  The 
Warden  had  great  powers ;  he  proved  the  quality, 
weight,  or  length  of  the  goods  exposed  for  sale ;  the 
members  were  bound  to  obey  the  Warden ;  to  pre- 
vent bad  blood,  every  man  called  upon  to  serve  his 
time  as  Warden  had  to  undertake  the  office.  The 
Warden  also  looked  after  the  poor  of  the  craft,  as- 
sisted the  old  and  infirm,  the  widows  and  the  orphans. 
He  had  also  to  watch  over  the  fraternity,  to  take  care 
that  there  should  be  no  underselling,  no  infringement 
of  the  rate  of  wage,  no  overreaching  of  one  by  the 
other.  He  was,  in  short,  to  maintain  the  common  in- 
terest of  the  trade.  It  was  a  despotism,  but,  on  the 
whole,  a  benevolent  despotism.  The  Englishman  was 
not  yet  ready  for  popular  rule ;  doubtless  the  jealous- 
ies of  the  sovereign  were  allayed  by  the  discovery  that 
the  association  of  a  trade  was  a  potent  engine  for  the 
maintenance  of  order  and  the  repression  of  the  turbu- 
lent craftsman.  How  turbulent  they  could  be  was 
proved  by  the  troubles  which  arose  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  III. 

The  great  companies  were  always  separate  and  dis- 
tinct from  the  smaller  companies.  For  a  long  time 


212  LONDON 

the  Mayor  was  exclusively  elected  from  the  former. 
Even  at  the  present  day,  unless  the  Mayor  belongs  to 
one  of  the  great  companies,  he  labors  under  certain 
disadvantages.  He  cannot,  for  instance,  become  Presi- 
dent of  the  Irish  Society. 

By  the  end  of  the  fourteenth  century,  then — to  sum 
up — the  government  of  London  was  practically  com- 
plete and  almost  in  its  present  form.  The  Mayor,  be- 
come an  officer  of  the  highest  importance,  was  elected 
every  year;  the  Sheriffs  every  year;  the  Aldermen 
and  the  Common  Councilmen  were  elected  by  wards. 
The  Mayor  was  chosen  from  the  great  companies, 
which  comprised  all  the  merchant  venturers,  import- 
ers, exporters,  men  who  had  correspondence  over  the 
seas,  masters,  and  employers.  Every  craft  had  its  own 
regulations;  no  one  could  trade  in  the  City  who  did 
not  belong  to  a  company ;  no  one  could  work  in  the 
City,  or  even  make  anything  to  be  sold,  who  did  not 
belong  to  a  company.  Wages  were  ordered  by  the 
companies;  working-men  had  no  appeal  from  the 
ruling  of  the  Warden.  From  time  to  time  there  were 
attempts  made  by  the  craftsmen  to  make  combina- 
tions for  themselves.  These  attempts  were  sternly 
and  swiftly  put  down.  No  trades -unions  were  suf- 
fered to  be  formed ;  nay,  even  within  the  memory  of 
living  man  trades-unions  were  treated  as  illegal  asso- 
ciations. The  craftsman,  as  a  political  factor,  disap- 
pears from  history  with  the  creation  of  the  companies. 
In  earlier  times  we  hear  his  voice  in  the  folkmote ; 
we  see  him  tossing  his  cap  and  shouting  for  William 
Longbeard.  But  when  Whittington  sits  on  the  Lord 
Mayor's  chair  he  is  silenced.  And  he  remains  silent 
until,  by  a  renewal  of  those  covins  and  conspiracies 


PLANTAGENET  213 

which  Whittington  put  down  so  sternly,  he  has  be- 
come a  greater  power  in  the  land  than  ever  he  was 
before.  Even  yet,  however,  and  with  all  the  lessons 
that  he  has  learned,  his  power  of  combination  is  im- 
perfect, his  aims  are  narrow,  and  his  grasp  of  his  own 
power  is  feeble  and  restricted. 

For  my  own  part,  I  confess  that  this  repression,  this 
silencing  of  the  craftsman  in  the  fourteenth  century, 
seems  to  me  to  have  been  necessary  for  the  growth 
and  prosperity  of  the  City.  For  the  craftsman  was 
then  incredibly  ignorant;  he  knew  nothing  except 
his  own  craft ;  as  for  his  country,  the  conditions  of 
the  time,  the  outer  world,  he  knew  nothing  at  all ; 
he  might  talk  to  the  sailors  who  lay  about  the  quays 
between  voyages,  but  they  could  tell  him  nothing 
that  would  help  him  in  his  trade ;  he  could  not  read, 
he  could  not  inquire,  because  he  knew  not  what  ques- 
tion to  ask  or  what  information  he  wanted ;  he  had 
no  principles ;  he  was  naturally  ready,  for  his  own 
present  advantages,  to  sacrifice  the  whole  world ;  he 
believed  all  he  was  told.  Had  the  London  working- 
man  acquired  such  a  share  in  the  government  of  his 
city  as  he  now  has  in  the  government  of  his  country, 
the  result  would  have  been  a  battle-field  of  discordant 
and  ever-varying  factions,  ruled  and  led  each  in  turn 
by  a  short-lived  demagogue. 

It  was,  in  short,  a  most  happy  circumstance  for 
London  that  the  government  of  the  City  fell  into  the 
hands  of  an  oligarchy,  and  still  more  happy  that  the 
oligarchs  themselves  were  under  the  rule  of  a  jealous 
and  a  watchful  sovereign. 

So  far  it  was  well.  It  would  have  been  better  had 
the  governing  body  recognized  the  law  that  they 


214  LONDON 

must  be  always  enlarging  their  borders.  Then  they 
would  have  begun  in  earnest  the  education  of  the 
people.  We,  who  have  only  taken  this  work  in  hand 
for  twenty  years,  may  not  throw  stones.  The  voice 
of  the  educated  craftsman  should  have  been  heard 
long  ago.  Then  we  might  have  been  spared  many 
oppressions,  many  foolish  wars,  many  cruelties.  But 
from  the  fourteenth  to  the  nineteenth  century  the 
craftsman  is  silent.  Nay,  in  every  generation  he 
grows  more  silent,  less  able  to  say  what  he  wants ; 
more  inarticulate,  more  angry  and  discontented,  and 
more  powerless  to  make  his  wants  heard  until  he 
reaches  the  lowest  depth  ever  arrived  at  by  English- 
men ;  and  that,  I  think,  was  about  a  hundred  years 
ago. 


PLANTAGENET  21$ 


V 

PLANTAGENET 
I 

III.  THE   l^EOPLE 

THROUGH  broad  Chepeside  rode  the  great  lord 
—haply  the  King  himself — followed  by  his  regi- 
ment of  knights,  gentlemen,  and  men-at-arms,  all  wear- 
ing his  livery.  The  Abbot,  with  his  following,  passed 
along  on  his  way  to  Westminster  in  stately  proces- 
sion. The  Alderman,  in  fur  gown  and  gold  chain, 
with  his  officers,  walked  through  the  market  inspect- 
ing weights  and  measures  and  the  goods  exposed  for 
sale.  Priests  and  friars  crowded  the  narrow  ways. 
To  north  and  south,  in  sheds  which  served  for  shops, 
the  prentices  stood  bawling  their  wares.  This  was 
the  outward  and  visible  side  of  the  City.  There  was 
another  side — the  City  of  the  London  craftsman. 

Who  was  he  —  the  craftsman?  Whence  did  he 
come?  London  has  always  opened  her  hospitable 
arms  to  foreigners.  They  still  come  to  the  City  and 
settle,  enjoying  its  freedom,  and  in  the  next  genera- 
tion are  pure  English.  In  the  days  of  Edward  the 
Confessor  the  men  of  Rouen  and  of  Flanders  became 
citizens  with  rights  equal  to  the  English.  Later  on, 
the  names  of  the  people  show  their  origin  and  the 


2l6 


LONDON 


places  whence  they  or  their  forefathers  had  come. 
Then  William  Waleys  is  William  the  Welchman; 
Walter  Norris  is  Walter  of  Norway ;  John  Francis  is 
John  the  Frenchman  ;  Henry  Upton  is  Henry  of  that 
town;  William  Sevenoke,  Lord  Mayor  of  London, 
took  his  name  from  the  village 
of  Sevenoaks,  in  Kent,  where 
he  was  born.  The  first  sur- 
names were  bestowed  not  only 
with  reference  to  the  place  of 
birth,  but  partly  to  trades,  part- 
ly to  the  place  of  residence, 
partly  to  personal  defects  or 
peculiarities.  But  it  is  obvious 
from  the  earliest  names  on  rec- 
ord how  readily  London  re- 
ceived strangers  from  any  quar- 
ter of  western  Europe,  Norway, 
Denmark,  Flanders,  Lorraine, 
Picardy,  Normandy,  Guyenne, 
Spain,  Provence,  and  Italy.  It 
is  noteworthy  in  studying  the 
names,  first,  that,  as  was  to  be 

expected,  there  is  not  in  the  fourteenth  century  a 
single  trace  of  British  or  Roman-British  name,  either 
Christian  or  surname,  just  as  there  was  not  in  the 
Saxon  occupation  a  single  trace  of  Roman  customs 
or  institutions ;  next,  that  the  Saxon  names  have  all 
vanished.  There  are  no  longer  any  Wilfreds,  ^Elf- 
gars,  Eadberhts,  Sigeberts,  Harolds,  or  Eadgars  among 
the  Christian  names.  They  have  given  place  to  the 
Norman  names  of  John,  Henry,  William,  and  the  like. 
The  London  craftsman  was  therefore  a  compound  of 


OLD  CHARING    CROSS 


PLANTAGENET  2 I/ 

many  races.  The  dominant  strain  was  Saxon — East 
Saxon  ;  then  came  Norman,  then  Fleming,  and  then  a 
slight  infusion  of  every  nation  of  Western  Europe. 

In  the  narrow  lanes  leading  north  and  south  of  the 
two  great  streets  of  Thames  and  Chepe  the  craftsmen 
of  London  lived  in  their  tenements,  each  consisting  of 
a  room  below  and  a  room  above.  Some  of  them  fol- 
lowed their  trade  at  home,  some  worked  in  shops. 
There  were  those  who  sold  and  those  who  made.  Of 
the  former,  the  mercers  and  haberdashers  kept  their 
shops  in  West  Chepe ;  the  goldsmiths  in  Guthrun's 
Lane  and  Old  Change ;  the  pepperers  and  grocers  in 
Soper's  Lane;  the  drapers  in  Lombard  Street  and 
Cornhill ;  the  skinners  in  St.  Mary  Axe ;  the  fish- 
mongers in  Thames  Street ;  the  iron-mongers  in  Iron- 
mongers' Lane  and  Old  Jewry;  the  vintners  in  the 
Vintry ;  the  butchers  in  East  Chepe,  St.  Nicolas 
Shambles,  and  the  Stocks  Market ;  the  hosiers  in 
Hosiers'  Lane ;  the  shoemakers  and  curriers  in  Cord- 
wainer  Street;  the  paternoster- sellers  in  Paternoster 
Row ;  patten-sellers  by  St.  Margaret  Pattens ;  and  so 
forth. 

It  is  easy,  with  the  help  of  Stow,  and  with  the 
names  of  the  streets  before  one,  to  map  out  the  chief 
market-places  and  the  shops.  It  is  not  so  easy  to  lay 
down  the  places  where  those  dwelt  who  carried  on 
handicrafts.  Stow  indicates  here  and  there  a  few 
facts.  The  Founders  of  candlesticks,  chafing-dishes, 
and  spice  mortars  carried  on  their  work  in  Lothbury ; 
the  coal -men  and  wood-mongers  were  found  about 
Billingsgate  stairs ;  since  the  Flemish  weavers  met  in 
the  church -yard  of  Lawrence  Pountney,  they  lived 
presumably  in  that  parish.  For  the  same  reason  the 


218  LONDON 

Brabant  weavers  probably  lived  in  St.  Mary  Somerset 
parish.  The  furriers  worked  in  Walbrook ;  the  cur- 
riers opposite  London  Wall ;  upholsterers  or  under- 
takers on  Cornhill ;  cutlers  worked  in  Pope's  Head 
Alley;  basket -makers,  wire -drawers,  and  "other  for- 
eigners "  in  Blond  Chapel,  or  Blanch  Appletone  Lane. 
In  Mincing  Lane  dwelt  the  men  of  Genoa  and  other 
parts  who  brought  wine  to  the  port  of  London  in  their 
galleys.  The  turners  of  beads  for  prayers  lived  in  Pa- 
ternoster Row ;  the  bowyers  in  Bowyer  Row ;  other 
crafts  there  are  which  may  be  assigned  to  their  origi- 
nal streets.  Sometimes,  but  not  always,  the  site  of  a 
company's  hall  marks  the  quarter  chiefly  inhabited 
by  that  trade.  Certainly  the  vintners  belonged  to  the 
Vintry,  where  is  now  their  hall,  and  the  weavers  to 
Chepe,  where  they  still  have  their  hall.  When,  how- 
ever, the  management  of  a  trade  or  craft  passed  into 
the  hands  of  a  company,  there  was  no  longer  any  rea- 
son, except  where  men  had  to  work  together,  why 
they  should  live  together.  Since  there  could  be  no 
combined  action  by  the  men,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
blind  obedience  to  the  Warden,  they  might  as  well 
live  in  whatever  part  of  the  City  should  be  the  most 
convenient.  From  the  absence  of  great  houses,  wheth- 
er of  nobles  or  princes,  in  the  north  of  the  City,  one  is 
inclined  to  believe  that  great  numbers  of  craftsmen 
lived  in  that  part,  namely,  between  what  is  now  called 
Gresham  Street  and  London  Wall. 

The  trades  carried  on  within  the  walls  covered  very 
nearly  the  whole  field  of  manufacture.  A  mediaeval 
city  made  everything  that  it  wanted  —  wine,  spices, 
silks,  velvets,  precious  stones,  and  a  few  other  things 
excepted,  which  were  brought  to  the  port  from  abroad ; 


PLANTAGENET  2IQ 

but  the  City  could  get  on  very  well  without  those 
things.  Within  the  walls  they  made  everything.  It 
is  not  until  one  reads  the  long  lists  of  trades  collected 
together  by  Riley  that  one  understands  how  many 
things  were  wanted,  and  how  trades  were  subdivided. 
Clothing  in  its  various  branches  gave  work  to  the 
wympler,  who  made  wimples  or  neckerchiefs  for  wom- 
en ;  the  retunder,  or  shearman  of  cloth  ;  the  batour, 
or  worker  of  cloth ;  the  caplet-monger ;  the  callere, 
who  made  cauls  or  coifs  for  the  head  ;  the  quilter;  the 
pinner ;  the  chaloner,  who  made  chalons  or  coverlets  ; 
the  bureller,  who  worked  in  burel,  a  coarse  cloth  ;  the 
tailor;  the  linen  armorer;  the  chaucer,  or  shoemaker; 
the  plumer,  or  feather-worker ;  the  pelliper,  pellercer, 
or  furrier ;  the  white  tawyer,  who  made  white  leather  ; 
and  many  others.  Arms  and  armor  wanted  the  bow- 
yer ;  the  kissere,  who  made  armor  for  the  thighs ;  the 
bokelsmyth,  who  make  bucklers ;  the  bracere,  who 
made  armor  for  arms ;  the  gorgiarius,  who  made  gor- 
gets ;  the  taborer,  who  made  drums ;  the  heaulmere, 
who  made  helmets ;  the  makers  of  haketons,  pikes, 
swords,  spears,  and  bolts  for  crossbows.  Trades  were 
thus  already  divided ;  we  see  one  man  making  one 
thing  and  nothing  else  all  his  life.  The  equyler  made 
porringers,  the  brochere  made  spits,  the  haltier  made 
halters,  the  corder  made  ropes,  the  sacker  made  sacks, 
the  melmallere  made  hammers,  and  so  on. 

The  old  City  grows  gradually  clearer  to  the  vision 
when  we  think  of  all  these  trades  carried  on  within 
the  walls.  There  were  mills  to  grind  the  corn  ;  brew- 
eries for  making  the  beer — one  remains  in  the  City 
still ;  the  linen  was  spun  within  the  walls,  and  the 
cloth  made  and  dressed ;  the  brass  pots,  tin  pots,  iron 


220  LONDON 

utensils,  and  wooden  platters  and  basins  were  all  made 
in  the  City ;  the  armor,  with  its  various  pieces,  was 
hammered  out  and  fashioned  in  the  streets ;  all  kinds 
of  clothes,  from  the  leathern  jerkin  of  the  poorest  to 
the  embroidered  robes  of  a  princess,  were  made  here  ; 
nothing  that  was  wanted  for  household  use  in  the 
country  but  was  made  in  London  town.  Some  of 
those  trades  were  offensive  to  their  neighbors.  Under 
Edward  I.,  for  instance,  the  melters  of  tallow  and  lard 
were  made  to  leave  Chepe,  and  to  find  a  more  con- 
venient place  at  a  distance  from  that  fashionable 
street.  The  names  of  Stinking  Lane,  Scalding  Lane, 
and  Sheer  Hog  sufficiently  indicate  the  pleasing  effect 
of  the  things  done  in  them  upon  the  neighbors.  The 
modern  City  of  London — the  City  proper — is  a  place 
where  they  make  nothing,  but  sell  everything.  It  is 
now  quite  a  quiet  city ;  the  old  rumbling  of  broad- 
wheeled  wagons  over  a  stone-laid  roadway  has  given 
way  to  the  roll  of  the  narrow  wheel  over  the  smooth 
asphalt ;  the  craftsmen  have  left  the  City.  But  in  the 
days  of  Whittington  there  was  no  noiser  city  in  the 
whole  world ;  the  roar  and  the  racket  of  it  could  be 
heard  afar  off — even  at  the  rising  of  the  Surrey  Hills 
or  the  slope  of  Highgate,  or  the  top  of  Parliament 
Hill.  Every  man  in  the  City  was  at  work  except  the 
lazy  men-at-arms  of  my  lord's  following  in  the  great 
house  that  was  like  a  barrack.  They  lay  about  wait- 
ing for  the  order  to  mount  and  ride  off  to  the  border, 
or  the  Welsh  march,  or  to  fight  the  French.  But 
roundabout  these  barracks  the  busy  craftsmen  worked 
all  day  long.  From  every  lane  rang  out  without  ceas- 
ing the  tuneful  note  of  the  hammer  and  the  anvil ; 
the  carpenters,  not  without  noise,  drove  in  their  nails, 


PLANTAGENET  221 

and  the  coopers  hooped  their  casks ;  the  blacksmith's 
fire  roared  ;  the  harsh  grating  of  the  founders  set  the 
teeth  on  edge  of  those  who  passed  that  way ;  along 
the  river-bank,  from  the  Tower  to 'Paul's  stairs,  those 
who  loaded  and  those  who  unloaded,  those  who  car- 
ried the  bales  to  the  warehouses,  those  who  hoisted 
them  up,  the  ships  which  came  to  port  and  the  ships 
which  sailed  away,  did  all  with-  fierce  talking,  shouting, 
quarrelling,  and  racket.  Such  work  must  needs  be 
carried  on  with  noise.  The  pack-horses  plodded  along 
the  streets,  coming  into  the  City  and  going  out.  Wag- 
ons with  broad  wheels  rumbled  and  groaned  along; 
the  prentices  bawled  from  the  shops ;  the  fighting- 
men  marched  along  to  sound  of  trumpet;  the  church 
bells  and  the  monastery  bells  rang  out  all  day  long, 
and  all  night  too.  And  at  the  doors  of  the  houses  or 
the  open  windows,  where  there  was  no  glass,  but  a 
hanging  shutter,  sat  or  stood  the  women,  preparing 
the  food,  washing,  mending,  sewing,  or  spinning,  their 
children  playing  in  the  street  before  them.  There  are 
many  towns  of  France,  especially  Southern  France, 
which  recall  the  mediaeval  city.  Here  the  women  live 
and  do  their  work  in  the  door-ways ;  the  men  work  at 
the  open  windows ;  and  all  day  there  is  wafted  along 
the  streets  and  up  to  the  skies  the  fragrance  of  soup 
and  onions,  roasted  meats  and  baked  confections,  with 
the  smell  of  every  trade  which  the  people  carry  on. 

Everything  was  made  within  the  walls  of  the  City. 
When  one  thinks  upon  the  melting  of  tallow,  the  boil- 
ing of  soap,  the  crushing  of  bones,  the  extracting  of 
glue,  the  treatment  of  feathers  and  cloth  and  leather, 
the  making  and  grinding  of  knives  and  all  other  sharp 
weapons,  the  crowding  of  the  slaughter-houses,  the 


222  LONDON 

decaying  of  fruit  and  vegetables,  the  roasting  of  meat 
at  cooks'  shops,  the  baking  of  bread,  the  brewing  of 
beer,  the  making  of  vinegar,  and  all  the  thousand  and 
one  things  which  go  to  make  up  the  life  of  a  town, 
the  most  offensive  of  which  are  now  carried  on  with- 
out the  town  ?  when  one  considers,  further,  the  gut- 
ter, which  played  so  great  a  part  in  every  mediaeval 
city ;  the  gutter  stream,  which  was  almost  Sabbatical, 
because  it  ceased' to  run  when  people  ceased  to  work ; 
the  brook  of  the  middle  of  the  street,  flowing  with 
suds,  the  water  used  for  domestic  and  for  trade  pur- 
poses, and  with  everything  that  would  float  or  flow; 
when,  again,  one  thinks  of  the  rags  and  bones,  the 
broken  bits  and  remnants  and  fragments,  the  cabbage- 
stalks  and  pea- pods  and  onion- peelings  which  were 
thrown  into  the  street,  though  against  the  law,  and  of 
the  lay  stalls,  where  filth  and  refuse  of  every  kind 
were  thrown  to  wait  the  coming  of  carts,  even  more 
uncertain  than  those  of  a  modern  vestry  —  when,  I 
say,  one  thinks  of  all  these  things,  and  of  the  small 
boundaries  of  the  City,  and  its  crowded  people,  and 
of  its  narrow  streets,  one  understands  how  there 
hung  over  the  City  day  and  night,  never  quite  blown 
away  even  by  the  most  terrible  storm  that  ever 
wept  o'er  pale  Britannia,  a  richly  confected  cloud  of 
thick  and  heavy  smell  which  the  people  had  to 
breathe. 

They  liked  it ;  without  it,  the  true  Londoner  lan- 
guished. The  mediaeval  smell,  the  smell  of  great 
towns,  has  left  London,  but  in  old  towns  of  the  Con- 
tinent, as  in  the  old  streets  of  Brussels,  it  meets  and 
greets  us  to  the  present  day.  Breathing  this  air  with 
difficulty,  and  perhaps  with  nausea,  you  may  say, 


PLANTAGENET  22$ 

"  Such  and  such  was  the  air  in  which  the  citizens  of 
London  delighted  when  Edward  III.  was  King." 

The  craftsman  in  those  days  had  to  do  good  work, 
or  he  would  hear  of  it.  He  had  to  obey  his  company, 
or  he  would  hear  of  it ;  and  he  had  to  take,  with  out- 
ward show  of  contentment,  the  wages  that  were  as- 
signed to  him,  or  he  would  hear  of  it.  He  might  be 
imprisoned,  or  put  in  pillory.  We  shall  see  a  few 
cases  of  his  punishment  presently.  As  a  final  punish- 
ment he  might  be  thrust  outside  the  gates  of  the  City, 
and  told  to  go  away  and  to  return  no  more. 

Then,  one  fears,  there  would  be  nothing  left  for  the 
craftsman  but  to  turn  riband,  if  he  was  clever  enough 
to  learn  the  arts  of  ribauderie ;  or  to  sink  into  the 
lowest  depth  and  become  a  villein,  bound  to  the  soil. 

If  it  was  a  city  of  hard  work,  it  was  also  a  city  of 
play  in  plenty.  London  citizens,  old  and  young,  have 
always  delighted  beyond  measure  in  games,  shows, 
sports,  and  amusements  of  every  kind.  There  were 
many  holidays,  and  Sunday  was  not  a  day  of  gloom. 

The  calendar  of  sport  begins  with  the  first  day  of 
the  year,  and  ends  with  the  last  day. 

The  year  began  with  New-year's  gifts : 

These  giftes  the  husband  gives  his  wife  and  father  eke  the 

child, 

And  master  on  his  men  bestows  the  like  with  favour  milde, 
And  good  beginning  of  the  year  they  wish  and  wish  again, 
According  to  the  ancient  guise  of  heathen  people  vaine. 
These  eight  days  no  man  doth  require  his  debtes  of  any  man ; 
Their  tables  do  they  furnish  forth  with  all  the  meat  they  can. 

There  were  skating  and  sliding  upon  the  ice  in 
Moorfields,  where  the  shallow  ponds  froze  easily ;  or 


224  LONDON 

they  played  at  quarter-staff,  at  hocking,  at  single-stick, 
at  foot -ball,  and  at  bucklers.  In  the  evening  they 
played  at  cards  and  "  tables  "  and  dice. 

Now  men  and  maids  do  merry  make 
At  stool-ball  and  at  barley-break.          v 

On  Shrove  Tuesday  they  had  cock-fighting,  a  sport 
continued  with  unabated  popularity  until  within  the 
memory  of  man  —  nay,  it  is  rumored  that  he  who 
knows  where  to  look  fpr  it  may  still  enjoy  that  human- 
izing spectacle.  Every  Friday  in  Lent  the  young 
men  went  forth  to  Smithfield  and  held  mock  fights, 
but  the  custom  was  in  time  discontinued;  at  Easter 
they  had  boat  tournaments.  At  this  holy  season  also 
they  had  boar  fights,  and  the  baiting  of  bulls  and 
bears.  They  had  stage  plays  —  the  parish  clerk  in 
Chaucer  "  played  Herod  on  a  scaffold  high."  In  the 
year  1391  the  parish  clerks  had  a  play  at  Skinners 
Well,  Smithfield,  which  lasted  for  three  days.  In 
1409  they  represented  the  creation  of  the  world,  and 
it  lasted  eight  days. 

Then  there  were  the  pageants,  shows,  and  ridings 
in  the  city.  Here  are  two,  out  of  several  described 
by  Stow: 

Of  triumphant  shows  made  by  the  citizens  of  London,  ye 
may  read,  in  the  year  1236,  the  2oth  of  Henry  III.,  Andrew 
Bockwell  then  being  mayor,  how  Eleanor,  daughter  to  Rey- 
mond,  Earl  of  Provence,  riding  through  the  city  towards  West- 
minster, there  to  be  crowned  Queen  of  England,  the  city  was 
adorned  with  silks,  and  in  the  night  with  lamps,  cressets,  and 
other  lights  without  number,  besides  many  pageants  and 
strange  devices  there  presented  ,-  the  citizens  also  rode  to  meet 
the  king  and  queen,  clothed  in  long 'garments  embroidered 
about  with  gold,  and  silks  of  divers  colours,  their  horses  gal- 


PLANTAGENET  225 

lantly  trapped  to  the  number  of  three  hundred  and  sixty,  every 
man  bearing  a  cup  of  gold  or  silver  in  his  hand,  and  the  king's 
trumpeters  sounding  before  them.  These  citizens  did  minister 
wine  as  bottlers,  which  is  their  service,  at  their  coronation. 
More,  in  the  year  1293,  for  victory  obtained  by  Edward  I. 
against  the  Scots,  every  citizen,  according  to  their  several 
trade,  made  their  several  show,  but  especially  the  fish-mongers, 
which  in  a  solemn  procession  passed  through  the  city,  having, 
amongst  other  pageants  and  shows,  four  sturgeons  gilt,  carried 
on  four  horses ;  then  four  salmons  of  silver  on  four  horses ; 
and  after  them  six-and-forty  armed  knights  riding  on  horses, 
made  like  luces  of  the  sea ;  and  then  one  representing  St.  Mag- 
nus, because  it  was  upon  St.  Magnus'  day,  with  a  thousand 
horsemen,  &c. 

One  other  show,  in  the  year  1377,  was  made  by  the  citizens 
for  disport  of  the  young  prince,  Richard,  son  to  the  Black 
Prince,  in  the  feast  of  Christmas,  in  this  manner  :  On  the  Sun- 
day before  Candlemas,  in  the  night,  one  hundred  and  thirty 
citizens,  disguised,  and  well  horsed,  in  a  mummery,  with  sound 
of  trumpets,  sackbuts,  cornets,  shalmes,  and  other  minstrels, 
and  innumerable  torch  -  lights  of  wax,  rode  from  Newgate, 
through  Cheap,  over  the  bridge,  through  Southwark,  and  so  to 
Kennington  beside  Lambhith,  where  the  young  prince  re- 
mained with  his  mother  and  the  Duke  of  Lancaster  his  uncle, 
the  earls  of  Cambridge,  Hertford,  Warwick,  and  Suffolk,  with 
divers  other  lords.  In  the  first  rank  did  ride  forty-eight  in  the 
likeness  and  habit  of  esquires,  two  and  two  together,  clothed 
in  red  coats  and  gowns  of  say  or  sandal,  with  comely  visors  on 
their  faces ;  after  them  came  riding  forty-eight  knights  in  the 
same  livery  of  colour  and  stuff;  then  followed  one  richly  ar- 
rayed like  an  emperor;  and  after  him  some  distance,  one 
stately  attired  like  a  pope,  whom  followed  twenty-four  cardi- 
nals, and  after  them  eight  or  ten  with  black  visors,  not  amiable, 
as  if  they  had  been  legates  from  some  foreign  princes.  These 
maskers,  after  they  had  entered  Kennington,  alighted  from 
their  horses,  and  entered  the  hall  on  foot;  which  done,  the 
prince,  his  mother,  and  the  lords,  came  out  of  the  chamber 
into  the  hall,  whom  the  said  mummers  did  salute,  showing  by 

15 


226  LONDON 

a  pair  of  dice  upon  the  table  their  desire  to  play  with  the 
prince,  which  they  so  handled  that  the  prince  did  always  win 
when  he  cast  them.  Then  the  mummers  set  to  the  prince 
three  jewels,  one  after  another,  which  were  a  bowl  of  gold,  a 
cup  of  gold,  and  a  ring  of  gold,  which  the  prince  won  at  three 
casts.  Then  they  set  to  the  prince's  mother,  the  duke,  the 
earls,  and  other  lords,  to  every  one  a  ring  of  gold,  which  they 
did  also  win.  After  which  they  were  feasted,  and  the  music 
sounded,  the  prince  and  the  lords  danced  on  the  one  part  with 
the  mummers,  which  did  also  dance;  which  jollity  being 
ended,  they  were  again  made  to  drink,  and  then  departed  in 
order  as  they  came. 

Whenever  an  excuse  could  be  found,  the  Mayor, 
Sheriffs,  and  Aldermen  held  a  solemn  riding  in  all 
their  bravery.  Not  even  in  Ghent  or  Antwerp  were 
there -such  splendid  ridings  and  so  many  of  them. 
"  Search  all  chronicles,"  says  an  old  writer,  "  all  histo- 
ries and  records,  in  what  language  or  letter  soever,  let 
the  inquisitive  man  waste  the  deere  treasures  of  his 
time  and  eyesight,  he  shall  conclude  his  life  only  in 
the  certainty  that  there  is  no  subject  received  into  the 
place  of  his  government  with  the  like  style  and  mag- 
nificence as  is  the  Lord  Mayor  of  the  city  of  London." 
We  shall  see  later  on  what  kind  of  show  would  be 
held  in  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 

As  for  pageants,  they  were  so  splendid  that  he  was 
unhappy,  indeed,  who  could  not  remember  one.  But 
there  were  few  so  unfortunate.  Whenever  the  King 
paid  a  visit  to  the  City,  on  his  accession,  on  his  mar- 
riage, on  the  birth  of  a  prince,  the  City  held  a  pageant. 
When  you  read  the  account  of  the  pageant  when 
Henry  V.  and  the  City  returned  thanks  for  the  victory 
of  Agincourt,  remember  to  cover  in  imagination  the 
houses  with  scarlet  cloth,  to  dress  the  people  with 


PLANTAGENET 

such  bravery  of  attire  and  such  colors  as  you  can  im- 
agine, to  let  music  play  at  every  corner,  to  let  the 
horses  be  apparelled  as  bravely  as  their  riders,  to  let 
the  bells  be  pealing  and  clashing,  to  fill  up  the  narra- 
tive with  the  things  which  the  historian  neglects,  and 
then  own  that  in  the  matter  of  pageants  we  are  poor 
indeed  compared  with  our  forefathers  five  hundred 
years  ago. 

On  the  king's  return  after  the  glorious  field  of  Agincourt, 
the  Mayor  of  London  and  the  Aldermen,  apparelled  in  orient 
grained  scarlet,  and  four  hundred  commoners  clad  in  beautiful 
murrey,  well  mounted  and  trimly  horsed,  with  rich  collars  and 
great  chains,  met  the  King  at  Blackheath ;  and  the  clergy  of 
London  in  solemn  procession  with  rich  crosses,  sumptuous 
copes,  and  massy  censers,  received  him  at  St.  Thomas  of  Wa- 
terings. The  King,  like  a  grave  and  sober  personage,  and  as 
one  who  remembered  from  Whom  all  victories  are  sent,  seemed 
little  to  regard  the  vain  pomp  and  shows,  insomuch  that  he 
would  not  suffer  his  helmet  to  be  carried  with  him,  whereby 
the  blows  and  dints  upon  it  might  have  been  seen  by  the  peo- 
ple, nor  would  he  suffer  any  ditties  to  be  made  and  sung  by 
minstrels  of  his  glorious  victory,  because  he  would  the  praise 
and  thanks  should  be  altogether  given  to  God. 

At  the  entrance  of  London  Bridge,  on  the  top  of  the  tower, 
stood  a  gigantic  figure,  bearing  in  his  right  hand  an  axe,  and 
in  his  left  the  keys  of  the  city  hanging  to  a  staff,  as  if  he  had 
been  the  porter.  By  his  side  stood  a  female  of  scarcely  less 
stature,  intended  for  his  wife.  Around  them  were  a  band  of 
trumpets  and  other  wind  instruments.  The  towers  were 
adorned  with  banners  of  the  royal  arms,  and  in  the  front  of 
them  was  inscribed  CIVITAS  REGIS  JUSTICIE  (the  City  of  the 
King  of  Righteousness). 

At  the  drawbridge  on  each  side  was  erected  a  lofty  column, 
like  a  little  tower,  built  of  wood,  and  covered  with  linen  ;  one 
painted  like  white  marble,  and  the  other  like  green  jasper. 
They  were  surmounted  by  figures  of  the  King's  beasts, — an  an- 


228  LONDON 

telope,  having  a  shield  of  the  royal  arms  suspended  from  his 
neck,  and  a  sceptre  in  his  right  foot ;  and  a  lion,  bearing  in  his 
right  claw  the  royal  standard  unfurled. 

At  the  foot  of  the  bridge  next  the  city  was  raised  a  tower, 
formed  and  painted  like  the  columns  before  mentioned ;  and, 
in  the  middle  of  which,  under  a  splendid  pavilion,  stood  a  most 
beautiful  image  of  St.  George,  armed,  excepting  his  head,  which 
was  adorned  with  a  laurel  crown,  studded  with  jems  and  pre- 
cious stones.  Behind  him  was  a  crimson  tapestry,  with  his 
arms  (a  red  cross)  glittering  on  a  multitude  of  shields.  On  his 
right  hung  his  triumphal  helmet,  and  on  his  left  a  shield  of  his 
arms  of  suitable  size.  In  his  right  hand  he  held  the  hilt  of  the 
sword  with  which  he  was  girt,  and  in  his  left  a  scroll,  which, 
extending  along  the  turrets,  contained  these  words,  SOLI  DEO 
HONOR  ET  GLORIA.  In  a  contiguous  house  were  innumerable 
boys  representing  the  angelic  host,  arrayed  in  white,  with  glit- 
tering wings,  and  their  hair  set  with  sprigs  of  laurel ;  who,  on 
the  King's  approach,  sang,  accompanied  by  organs,  an  anthem, 
supposed  to  be  that  beginning  "  Our  King  went  forth  to  Nor- 
mandy;" and  whose  burthen  is,  "Deo  gratias,  Anglia,  redde 
pro  victoria," — printed  in  Percy's  Reliques. 

The  tower  of  the  Conduit  on  Cornhill  was  decked  with  a 
tent  of  crimson  cloth,  and  ornamented  with  the  King's  arms, 
and  those  of  Saints  George,  Edward,  and  Edmund.  Under  the 
pavilion  was  a  company  of  hoary  prophets,  in  golden  coats  and 
mantles,  and  their  heads  covered  with  gold  and  crimson ;  who, 
when  the  King  passed,  sent  forth  a  great  quantity  of  sparrows 
and  other  small  birds,  as  a  sacrifice  agreeable  to  God,  some  of 
which  alighted  on  the  King's  breast,  some  rested  on  his  shoul- 
ders, and  some  fluttered  round  about  him.  And  the  prophets 
then  sang  the  psalm,  Cantate  Domino  canticum  novum,  &c. 

The  tower  of  the  Conduit  at  the  entrance  of  Cheap  was  hung 
with  green,  and  ornamented  with  scutcheons.  Here  sat  twelve 
venerable  old  men,  having  the  names  of  the  twelve  Apostles 
written  on  their  foreheads,  together  with  the  twelve  Kings, 
Martyrs,  and  Confessors,  of  the  succession  of  England,  who 
also  gave  their  chaunt  at  the  King's  approach,  and  sent  forth 
upon  him  round  leaves  of  silver  mixed  with  wafers,  and  wine 


PLANTAGENET  22Q 

out  of  the  pipes  of  the  conduit,  imitating  Melchisedeck's  recep- 
tion of  Abraham,  when  he  returned  from  his  victory  over  the 
Four  Kings. 

The  Cross  of  Cheap  was  not  visible,  being  concealed  by  a 
beautiful  castle,  constructed  of  timber,  and  covered  with  linen 
painted  to  resemble  squared  blocks  of  white  marble  and  green 
and  crimson  jasper.  The  arms  of  St.  George  adorned  the  sum- 
mit, those  of  the  King  and  the  Emperor  were  raised  on  halberds, 
and  the  lower  turrets  had  the  arms  of  the  royal  family  and  the 
great  peers  of  the  realm.  On  a  stage  in  front  came  forth  a 
chorus  of  virgins  with  timbrel  and  dance,  as  to  another  David 
coming  from  the  slaughter  of  Goliah  ;  their  song  of  congratu- 
lation was,  "  Welcome,  Henry  the  Fifte,  King  of  Englond  and 
of  Fraunce."  Throughout  the  building  there  was  also  a  multi- 
tude of  boys,  representing  the  heavenly  host,  who  showered 
down  on  the  King's  head  small  coins  resembling  gold,  and 
boughs  of  laurel,  and  sang,  accompanied  by  organs,  the  Te 
Deum  laudamus. 

The  tower  of  the  Conduit  at  the  west  end  of  Cheap  was  sur- 
rounded with  pavilions,  in  each  of  which  was  a  virgin,  who  from 
cups  in  their  hands  blew  forth  golden  leaves  on  the  King.  The 
tower  was  covered  with  a  canopy  made  to  resemble  the  sky 
and  clouds,  the  four  posts  of  which  were  supported  by  angels, 
and  the  summit  crowned  with  an  archangel  of  brilliant  gold. 
Beneath  the  canopy,  on  a  throne,  was  a  majestic  image  repre- 
senting the  sun,  which  glittered  above  all  things,  and  round  it 
were  angels  singing  and  playing  all  kinds  of  musical  instru- 
ments. 

This  was  the  last  of  the  pageantry,  and,  after  the  King  had 
paid  his  devotions  at  St.  Paul's,  he  departed  to  his  palace  at 
Westminster. 

Of  ecclesiastical  functions  and  processions  I  say 
little.  The  people  belonging  to  the  Church,  as  well 
as  the  churches  themselves,  were  in  every  street  and 
in  every  function.  At  funerals  there  followed  the 
Brotherhood  of  Sixty,  the  singing  clerks,  and  the  old 


230  LONDON 

priests  of  the  Papey  chanting  the  psalms  for  the  dead. 
And  see,  here  is  a  company  of  a  hundred  and  twenty. 
They  are  not  Londoners,  they  are  Dutchmen ;  and 
they  have  come  across  the  sea — such  are  the  ameni- 
ties of  mediaeval  piety  —  to  flagellate'  themselves  for 
the  sins  of  this  city.  Will  the  English  follow  their 
example  and  go  to  flog  themselves  at  Amsterdam  ? 
For  there  are  sins  to  be  expiated  even  in  Holland. 
They  are  stripped  to  the  waist ;  every  man  is  armed 
with  a  whip,  and  is  belaboring  the  man  in  front.  It 
is  a  moving  spectacle.  London  cannot  choose  but 
repent.  The  tears  should  be  running  down  the  cheeks 
of  toper,  tosspot,  and  "  rorere."  Alas !  we  hear  of  no 
tears.  The  Dutchmen  have  to  go  home  again,  and 
may,  if  they  please,  flagellate  themselves  for  their  own 
good,  for  London  is  impenitent. 

Then  there  is  the  great  day  of  the  company — its 
saint's  day — the  day  of  visible  greatness  for  the  trade. 
On  this  day  is  the  whole  livery  assembled ;  there  must 
be  none  absent,  great  or  small :  all  are  met  in  the  hall, 
every  man  in  a  new  gown  of  the  trade  color.  First 
to  church ;  the  boys  and  singing  clerks  lead  the  way, 
chanting  as  they  go.  Then  march  the  Lord  Mayor's 
sergeants,  the  servants  of  the  company,  and  the  com- 
pany itself,  with  its  wardens  and  the  officers.  Mass 
despatched,  they  return  home  in  the  same  order  to 
the  hall,  where  they  find  a  banquet  spread  for  them, 
such  a  banquet  as  illustrates  the  wealth  and  dignity 
of  the  trade ;  the  music  is  in  the  gallery,  the  floor  is 
spread  with  rushes  newly  laid,  clean,  and  warm ;  the 
air  is  fragrant  with  the  burning  of  that  scented  Indian 
wood  called  sanders ;  at  the  high  table  sit  the  master 
or  warden,  the  guests — even  the  King  will  sometimes 


PLANTAGENET  231 

dine  with  a  city  company — and  the  court.  Below,  at 
the  tables,  arranged  in  long  lines,  are  the  freemen  of 
the  company,  and  not  the  men  alone,  but  with  every 
man  sits  his  wife,  or,  if  he  be  a  bachelor,  he  is  permitted 
to  bring  a  maiden  with  him  if  he  chooses.  Think  not 
that  a  city  company  of  the  olden  time  would  call  to- 
gether the  men  to  feast  alone  while  the  women  stayed 
at  home.  Not  at  all.  The  wardens  knew  very  well 
that  there  is  no  such  certain  guard,  and  preservative 
of  honesty  and  order,  which  are  the  first  requisites  for 
the  prosperity  of  trade,  as  the  worship  of  man  for 
maiden  and  of  maid  for  man. 

When  dinner  is  over,  they  will  elect  the  officers  for 
the  year,  and  doubtless  hear  a  word  of  admonition  on 
the  excellence  t>f  the  work  and  the  jealousy  with 
which  the  standard  of  good  work  should  be  guarded. 
Then  the  loving-cup  goes  round,  and  the  mummers 
come  in  to  perform  plays  and  interludes,  dressed  up 
in  such  fantastic  guise  as  makes  the  women  scream 
and  the  men  laugh  and  applaud. 

On  the  day  before  Ascension  Day  there  was  beat- 
ing of  the  bounds,  a  custom  still  observed,  but  with 
grievous  shrinkage  of  the  ceremonies. 

Perhaps  the  greatest  festival  of  the  year  was  May 
Day,  which  fell  in  the  middle  of  our  month  of  May. 
It  must  be  a  hard  year  indeed  when  the  east  winds 
are  not  over  and  done  with  by  the  middle  of  May. 
Spring  was  upon  them.  Only  think  what  was  meant 
by  spring  to  a  people  whose  winters  were  spent,  as 
must  have  been  the  case  with  most  of  them,  in  small 
houses,  dark  and  cold,  huddled  round  the  fire  without 
candles,  going  to  bed  early,  rising  before  daylight, 
eating  no  fresh  meat,  fruit,  or  vegetables,  waiting  im- 


232  LONDON 

patiently  for  the  time  to  return  when  they  would  live 
again  in  the  open,  shutters  down  and  doors  thrown 
wide. 

All  the  young  people  on  the  eve  of  May  Day  went 
out  into  the  fields  to  gather  boughs  and  white-thorn 
flowers.  In  Chaucer's  "  Court  of  Love,"  "  Forth  goeth 
all  the  court,  both  most  and  least,  to  fetch  the  flowers 
fresh."  Later  on,  Herrick  writes: 

Come,  my  Corinna,  come,  and  coming,  mark 

How  each  field  turns  a  street,  each  street  a  park 

Made  green  and  trimmed  with  trees;  see  how 

Devotion  gives  each  house  a  bough 

Or  branch ;   each  porch,  each  door,  on  this 

An  ark,  a  tabernacle  is 

Made  up  of  white  thorn  neatly  interwoven. 

It  was  the  prettiest  festival  in  the  world.  In  every 
parish  they  raised  a  May-pole  hung  with  garlands  and 
ribbons ;  they  elected  a  Queen  of  the  May,  and  they 
danced  and  sang  about  their  pole.  The  London  par- 
ishes vied  with  each  other  in  the  height  and  splendor 
of  the  pole.  One  was  kept  in  Gerard's  Hall,  Basing 
Lane  (now  swept  away  by  the  new  streets).  This 
was  forty  feet  high.  A  much  later  one,  erected  in 
the  Strand,  1661,  in  defiance  to  the  Puritans,  was  130 
feet  high.  And  there  was  the  famous  May- pole  of 
St.  Andrews  Under-shaft,  destroyed  by  the  Puritans 
as  an  emblem  of  idolatry  and  profligacy.  The  girls 
came  back  from  their  quest  of  flowers  singing,  but  not 
quite  in  these  words : 

We  have  been  rambling  all  the  night, 

And  almost  all  the  day, 
And  now  returning  back  again 

We  have  brought  you  a  branch  of  May. 


PLANTAGENET  233 

A  branch  of  May  we  have  brought  you, 

And  at  your  door  it  stands ; 
It  is  but  a  sprout,  but  it's  well  budded  out, 

By  the  work  of  our  Lord's  hands. 

And  there  was  morris-dancing,  with  Robin  Hood, 
Friar  Tuck,  Little  John,  Tom  the  Piper,  and  Tom  the 
Fool,  with  hobby-horses,  pipe  and  tabor,  mummers 
and  devils,  and  I  know  not  what ;  and  Chepe  and 
Cornhill  and  Gracechurch  Street  were  transformed 
into  leafy  lanes  and  woodland  ways  and  alleys  cut 
through  hawthorn  and  wild  rose.  You  may  see  to- 
day the  hawthorn  and  the  wild  rose  growing  in  Ep- 
ping  Forest,  just  as  they  grew  four  hundred  years  ago. 
But  the  forest  has  been  miserably  curtailed  of  its  pro- 
portions. A  great  slice,  wedge-shaped,  has  been  cut 
out  bodily,  and  is  now  built  upon.  Hainault  Forest 
has  perished  these  forty  years,  and  is  converted  into 
farms,  save  for  a  fragment,  and  of  Middlesex  Forest 
nothing  remains  except  the  little  piece  enclosed  in 
Lord  Mansfield's  park.  But  in  those  days  the  forest 
came  down  to  the  hamlet  of  Iseldun,  afterwards  Mer- 
ry Islington. 

And  in  the  month  of  June  there  were  the  burning 
of  bonfires  to  clear  and  cleanse  the  air,  and  the  march- 
ing of  the  watch  on  the  vigils  of  St.  John  Baptist  and 
St.  Peter. 

Hear  the  testimony  of  Stow  : 

In  the  months  of  June  and  July,  on  the  vigils  of  festival  days 
and  on  the  same  festival  days  in  the  evenings  after  the  sun  set- 
ting, there  were  usually  made  bonfires  in  the  streets,  every 
man  bestowing  wood  or  labour  towards  them ;  the  wealthier 
sort  also,  before  their  doors  near  to  the  said  bonfires,  would 
set  out  tables  on  the  vigils,  furnished  with  sweet  bread  and 


234  LONDON 

good  drink,  and  on  the  festival  days  with  meats  and  drinks 
plentifully,  whereunto  they  would  invite  their  neighbours  and 
passengers  also  to  sit  and  be  merry  with  them  in  great  famil- 
iarity, praising  God  for  His  benefits  bestowed  on  them.  These 
were  called  bonfires  as  well  of  good  amity  amongst  neigh- 
bours, that  being  before  at  controversy,  were  there,  by  the  labour 
of  others,  reconciled,  and  made  of  bitter  enemies  loving  friends  ; 
and  also  for  the  virtue  that  a  great  fire  hath  to  purge  the  in- 
fection of  the  air.  On  the  vigil  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  and 
on  St.  Peter  and  Paul  the  Apostles,  every  man's  door  being 
shadowed  with  green  birch,  long  fennel,  St.  John's  wort,  orpin, 
white  lillies,  and  such  like,  garnished  upon  with  garlands  of 
beautiful  flowers,  had  also  lamps  of  glass,  with  oil  burning  in 
them  all  the  night ;  some  hung  out  branches  of  iron  curiously 
wrought,  containing  hundreds  of  lamps  alight  at  once,  which 
made  a  goodly  show,  namely,  in  New  Fish  Street,  Thames 
Street,  &c.  Then  had  ye  besides  the  standing  watches  all  in 
bright  harness,  in  every  ward  and  street  of  this  city  and  sub- 
urbs, a  marching  watch,  that  passed  through  the  principal 
streets  thereof,  to  wit,  from  the  little  conduit  by  Paul's  Gate 
to  West  Cheap,  by  the  stocks  through  Cornhill,  by  Leaden- 
hall  to  Aldgate,  then  back  down  Fenchurch  Street,  by  Grass 
Church,  about  Grass  Church  conduit,  and  up  Grass  Church 
Street  into  Cornhill,  and  through  it  into  West  Cheap  again. 
The  whole  way  for  this  marching  watch  extendeth  to  three 
thousand  two  hundred  tailor's  yards  of  assize  ;  for  the  furniture 
whereof  with  lights,  there  were  appointed  seven  hundred  cres- 
sets, five  hundred  of  them  being  found  by  the  companies,  the 
other  two  hundred  by  the  Chamber  of  London.  Besides  the 
which  lights  every  constable  in  London,  in  number  more  than 
two  hundred  and  forty,  had  his  cresset :  the  charge  of  every 
cresset  was  in  light  two  shillings  and  fourpence,  and  every 
cresset  had  two  men,  one  to  bear  or  hold  it,  another  to  bear  a 
bag  with  light,  and  to  serve  it,  so  that  the  poor  men  pertaining 
to  the  cressets,  taking  wages,  besides  that  every  one  had  a 
straw  hat,  with  a  badge  painted,  and  his  breakfast  in  the  morn- 
ing, amounted  in  number  to  almost  two  thousand.  The 
marching  watch  contained  in  number  about  two  thousand 


PLANTAGENET  235 

men,  part  of  them  being  old  soldiers  of  skill,  to  be  captains, 
lieutenants,  sergeants,  corporals,  &c.,  whifflers,  drummers,  and 
fifes,  standard  and  ensign-bearers,  sword-players,  trumpeters 
on  horseback,  demilances  on  great  horses,  gunners  with  hand 
guns,  or  half  hakes,  archers  in  coats  of  white  fustian,  signed 
on  the  breast  and  back  with  the  arms  of  the  city,  their  bows 
bent  in  their  hands,  with  sheaves  of  arrows  by  their  sides,  pike- 
men  in  bright  corslets,  burganets,  &c.,  halberds,  the  like  bill- 
men  in  almaine  rivets,  and  aprons  of  mail  in  great  number; 
there  were  also  divers  pageants,  morris  dancers,  constables,  the 
one-half,  which  was  one  hundred  and  twenty,  on  St.  John's 
Eve,  the  other  half  on  St.  Peter's  Eve,  in  bright  harness,  some 
overgilt,  and  every  one  a  jornet  of  scarlet  thereupon,  and  a  chain 
of  gold,  his  henchman  following  him,  his  minstrels  before  him, 
and  his  cresset  light  passing  by  him,  the  waits  of  the  city,  the 
mayor's  officers  for  his  guard  before  him,  all  in  a  livery  of 
worsted  or  say  jackets  party-coloured,  the  mayor  himself  well- 
mounted  on  horseback,  the  sword-bearer  before  him  in  fair 
armour  well  mounted  also,  the  mayor's  footmen,  and  the  like 
torch-bearers  about  him,  henchmen  twain  upon  great  stirring 
horses,  following  him.  The  sheriff's  watches  came  one  after 
the  other  in  like  order,  but  not  so  large  in  number  as  the 
mayor's ;  for  where  the  mayor  had  besides  his  giant  three 
pageants,  each  of  the  sheriffs  had  besides  their  giants  but  two 
pageants,  each  their  morris  dance,  and  one  henchman,  their  offi- 
cers in  jackets  of  worstead  or  say  party-coloured,  differing  from 
the  mayor's,  and  each  from  other,  but  having  harnessed  men  a 
great  many,  &c. 

On  the  Feast  of  St.  Bartholomew  there  were  wrest- 
lings, foot-races,  and  shooting  with  the  bow  for  prizes. 
On  Holyrood  Day  (September  I4th)  the  young  men 
and  the  maidens  went  nutting  in  the  woods.  At  Mar- 
tinmas (November  1st)  there  was  feasting  to  welcome 
the  beginning  of  winter.  Lastly,  the  old  year  ended 
and  the  new  year  began  with  the  mixture  and  succes- 
sion of  religious  services,  pageants,  shows,  feasting, 


236  LONDON 

drinking,  and  dancing,  which  the  London  citizen  of 
every  degree  loved  so  much. 

Then  there  were  the  City  holidays.  St.  Lubbock 
had  predecessors.  There  were  Christmas  Day,  Twelfth 
Day,  Easter,  the  day  of  St.  John  the  Baptist,  on  June 
24th,  and  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  on  June  29th. 
On  the  last  two  days,  to  discourage  the  people  from 
keeping  it  up  all  night,  the  vintners  had  t6  close  their 
doors  at  ten. 

The  City  of  London  has  always  been  famous  for  the 
great  plenty  and  variety  of  its  food.  Beef,  mutton, 
and  pork  formed  then,  as  now,  the  staple  of  the  diet ; 
small  beer  was  the  drink  of  all,  men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren. When,  for  instance,  the  Franciscans  first  set 
up  their  humble  cells,  the  small  beer  being  short  in 
quantity,  they  did  not  drink  water,  but  mixed  water 
with  the  beer,  in  order  to  make  it  go  round.  There 
were  so  many  fast-days  in  the  year  that  fish  was  as 
important  a  form  of  food  as  mutton  or  beef.  They 
ate  lampreys,  porpoise,  and  sturgeon,  among  othec 
fish.  Ling,  cod,  and  herring  furnished  them  with  salt- 
ed fish.  Peacocks  and  swans  adorned  their  tables  at 
great  banquets.  Their  dishes  were  sweetened  with 
honey,  for  sugar  was  scarce,  but  spices  were  abundant. 
By  the  thirteenth  century  they  had  begun  to  make 
plentiful  use  of  vegetables.  They  were  fond  of  pound- 
ing meats  of  different  kinds,  such  as  pork  and  poultry, 
and  mixing  them  in  a  kind  of  rissole.  At  a  certain 
great  banquet,  the  menu  of  which  has  survived,  there 
appears  neither  beef  nor  mutton,  probably  because 
those  meats  belonged  to  the  daily  life,  but  there  are 
great  birds  and  little  birds,  brawn,  rabbits,  swans,  and 
venison  for  meats,  soup  of  cabbage,  then  the  rissoles 


PLANTAGENET  237 

just  mentioned,  and  various  sweetmeats.  Their  drink 
was  strong  ale  for  banquets,  hot  spiced  ale  with  a 
toast,  the  loving-cup  of  hypocras,  and  for  wines,  Rhen- 
ish, sack,  Lisbon,  and  wine  of  Bordeaux. 

Since  every  man  in  the  City  who  practised  a  trade 
must  be  a  freeman  and  a  member  of  a  company  or 
trade  guild,  and  since  every  company  looked  after  its 
livery,  there  should  have  been  no  poor  in  the  City  at 
all.  But  performance  falls  short  of  promise ;  laws 
cannot  always  be  enforced ;  there  was,  it  is  quite  cer- 
tain, a  mass  of  poverty  and  worthlessness  in  the  City 
even  in  those  days.  Perhaps  the  City  proper,  with  its 
wards,  was  tolerably  free  from  rogues  and  vagabonds, 
but  there  were  the  suburb  of  Southwark,  that  of  the 
Strand,  that  already  springing  up  outside  Cripplegate, 
and  the  city  of  Westminster.  Plenty  of  room  here 
for  rogues  to  find  shelter.  There  were  also  the  trades 
of  which  the  City  took  no  heed,  of  minstrels,  jugglers, 
and  actors,  and  all  those  who  lived  by  amusing  others ; 
also  the  calling  of  servant  in  every  kind,  as  drover, 
carter,  wagoner,  carrier,  porter  (not  yet  associated), 
and  so  forth.  And  there  were  the  men  who  would 
never  do  any  work  at  all,  yet  wanted  as  much  drink 
and  food  as  the  honest  men  who  did  their  share.  For 
all  these  people,  when  they  were  hungry,  there  were 
the  charities  of  the  great  men,  the  bishops,  and  the 
monasteries.  For  instance,  the  Earl  of  Warwick  al- 
lowed any  man  to  take  as  much  meat  as  he  could 
carry  away  on  a  dagger ;  the  Bishop  of  Ely  (but  this 
was  later,  in  the  sixteenth  century)  gave  every  day 
bread,  drink,  and  meat  to  two  hundred  poor  people ; 
the  Earl  of  Derby  fed  every  day,  twice,  sixty  old  peo- 
ple ;  thrice  a  week  all  comers ;  and  on  Good  Friday 


238  LONDON 

2700  men  and  women.  In  the  year  1293,  being  a 
time  of  dearth,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  fed 
daily  four  or  five  thousand.  In  1171,  Henry  II.,  as 
part  of  his  penance  for  the  murder  of  a  Becket,  fed 
10,000  people  from  April  till  harvest.  In  the  reign  of 
Edward  III.  the  Bishop  of  Durham  bestowed  on  the 
poor  every  week  eight  quarters  of  wheat,  besides  the 
broken  victuals  of  his  house. 

The  almshouses,  of  which  there  are  so  many  still 
existing,  belong  for  the  most  part  to  a  later  time. 
The  citizens  founded  hospitals  for  the  necessitous 
as  well  as  for  the  sick;  they  rebuilt  and  beautified 
churches ;  they  endowed  charities,  and  gave  relief  to 
poor  prisoners.  The  first  almshouses  recorded  were 
founded  in  the  fourteenth  century  by  William  Rising, 
mercer,  who,  in  1332,  endowed  a  house  for  the  support 
of  a  hundred  blind  men,  and  by  John  Stodie,  citizen 
and  vintner,  Mayor  in  1358,  who  built  and  endowed 
thirteen  almshouses  for  as  many  poor  citizens.  In 
1415  William  Sevenoke,  citizen  and  grocer,  founded  a 
school  and  almshouses  in  his  native  place,  and  two 
years  later  Whittington  founded  by  will  his  college 
and  almshouses.  The  college  has  been  swallowed  up, 
but  the  almshouses  remain,  though  transferred  to 
Highgate.  After  this  the  rich  citizens  began  to  re- 
member the  poor  in  their  wills,  choosing  rather,  like 
Philip  Malpas,  Sheriff  in  1440,  to  give  clothing  to  poor 
men  and  women,  marriage  dowries  to  poor  maidens, 
and  money  for  the  highways  than  to  bequeath  the 
money  for  the  singing  of  masses  or  the  endowment  of 
charities. 

One  more  amusement  must  be  mentioned,  because 
it  is  the  only  one  of  which  the  honest  Londoners  have 


PLANTAGENET  239 

never  wearied.  It  is  mentioned  by  the  worthy  Fitz 
Stephen.  It  still  continues  to  afford  joy  to  millions. 
The  craftsman  of  the  fourteenth  century  found  it  at 
the  Mermaid  in  Cornhill,  or  the  Three  Tuns  of  New- 
gate, or  the  Swan  of  Dowgate,  or  the  Salutation  of 
Billingsgate,  or  the  Boar's  Head  of  London  Stone. 
He  found  it  in  company  with  his  fellows,  and  whether 
he  took  it  out  of  a  glass  or  a  silver  mazer  or  a  black 
jack,  he  took  it  joyfully,  and  he  took  it  abundantly. 
Tosspots  and  swinkers  were  they  then ;  tosspots  and 
swinkers  are  they  still. 

To  set  against  this  eagerness  for  pleasure,  this  avid- 
ity after  sports  of  every  kind,  we  must  remember  the 
continual  recurrence  of  plague  and  pestilence,  espe- 
cially in  the  fourteenth  century,1  when  the  love  of 
shows  and  feasting  was  at  its  highest,  and  when  the 
Black  Death  carried  off  half  the  citizens.  Is  it  not  a 
natural  result  ?  When  life  is  so  uncertain  that  men 
know  not  to-day  how  many  will  be  alive  to-morrow, 
they  snatch  impatiently  at  the  present  joy  ;  it  is  too 
precious  to  be  lost ;  another  moment,  and  the  chance 
will  be  gone — perhaps  forever.  As  is  the  merriment 
of  the  camp  when  the  battle  is  imminent,  so  is  the  joy 
of  the  people  between  the  comings  of  the  plague. 
Life  never  seems  so  full  of  rich  and  precious  gifts  as 
at  such  a  time.  As  for  the  lessons  in  sanitation  that 
the  plague  should  teach,  the  people  had  not  as  yet 
begun  to  learn  them.  The  lay  stalls  and  the  river- 
bank,  despite  laws  and  proclamations,  continued  to  be 
heaped  with  filth,  and  the  narrow  street  received  the 
refuse  from  every  house.  And,  in  addition  to  the  oc- 

1  Plague  in  1348,  1361,  1367,  1369,  1407,  1478,  1485,  and  1500. 


240  LONDON 

casional  plague,  there  was  ever  present  typhoidal  fe- 
ver striking  down  old  and  young. 

Perhaps  the  joy  of  the  present  was  also  intensified 
by  the  possibility  of  famine.  At  the  end  of  the  twelfth 
century  there  was  a  terrible  famine.  There  was  one 
in  1251  ;  there  was  one  in  1314,  when  "  no  flesh  was" 
to  be  had  ...  a  quarter  of  wheat,  beans,  and  peas  was 
sold  for  twenty  shillings."  This  is  something  like 
twenty  pounds  at  present  prices.  This  famine  contin- 
ued throughout  the  next  year,  when  Stow  says  "  horse- 
flesh was  counted  great  delicates,  the  poore  stole  fatte 
dogges  to  eate ;  some  (as  it  was  said),  compelled 
through  famine,  in  hidden  places,  did  eate  the  fleshe 
of  their  owne  children,  and  some  stole  others,  which 
they  devoured.  Thieves  that  were  in  prison  did 
plucke  in  pieces  those  that  were  newlie  brought 
among  them,  and  greedily  devoured  them  half  alive." 
The  uncertainty  whether  next  year  would  produce 
any  bread  at  all  sweetened  the  loaf  of  to-day.  In  the 
year  1335  long-continued  rains  caused  a  famine.  In 
1353  there  was  another;  in  1438  the  scarcity  was  so 
great  that  bread  was  made  from  fern-roots,  and  so  on. 

The  earliest  schools  of  the  City  were  those  of  St. 
Paul's,  Westminster,  and  the  Abbey  of  Bermondsey. 
Each  of  the  r&ligious  houses  in  turn,  as  it  was  erected, 
opened  another  school.  When,  however,  Henry  V. 
had  suppressed  the  alien  priories,  of  which  four  cer- 
tainly, and  perhaps  more,  belonged  to  London,  their 
schools  were  also  suppressed.  So  much  was  the  loss 
felt  that  Henry  VI.,  the  greatest  founder  of  schools  of 
all  the  kings,  erected  four  new  grammar-schools,  name- 
ly :  at  St.  Martin's  le  Grand,  St.  Dunstan  in  the  West, 
St.  Mary  le  Bow,  and  St.  Anthony's ;  and  in  the  fol- 


PLANTAGENET 


24I 


lowing  year  he  made  four  more,  namely:  in  the  par- 
ishes of  St.  Andrew's,  Holborn ;  All  Hallows  the 
Great,  Thames  Street ;  St.  Peter's,  Cornhill ;  and  St. 
Thomas  of  Aeon. 

But  to  what  extent  education  prevailed,  whether 
the  sons  of  craftsmen  were  taught  to  read  and  write 
before  they  were  apprenticed,  I  know  not.  For  them 


_/— • — y*^ 


'THE  STRAND   (1547),  WITH    THE    STRAND   CROSS,  COVENT    GARDEN,   AND   THE    PROCES- 
SION OF   EDWARD  VI.   TO   HIS    CORONATION   AT  WESTMINSTER 

16 


242  LONDON 

the  trivium  and  the  quadrivium  of  the  mediaeval 
school,  the  grammar,  rhetoric,  dialectic,  music,  arith- 
metic, geometry,  and  astronomy  could  not  possibly 
be  of  use.  On  the  other  hand,  one  cannot  under- 
stand that  the  child  of  a  respectable  London  craftsman 
should  be  allowed  to  grow  up  to  the  age  of  fourteen 
with  no  education  at  all.  As  for  the  children  of  gen- 
tle birth,  we  know  very  well  how  they  were  taught. 
Their  education  was  planned  so  as  to  include  very 
carefully  the  mastery  of  those  accomplishments  which 
we  call  good  manners.  It  also  included  Latin,  French, 
reading,  writing,  poetry,  and  music.  In  the  towns  the 
merchants  and  the  better  class  understood  very  well 
the  necessity  of  education  for  their  own  needs.  The 
poor  scholar,  however — the  lad  who  was  born  of  hum- 
ble parents  and  received  his  education  for  nothing — 
was  a  young  man  well  known  and  recognized  as  a 
common  type.  But  he  never  intended  his  learning  to 
adorn  a  trade ;  rather  should  it  lead  him  to  the  uni- 
versity, to  the  Church,  even  to  a  bishopric.  It  is  sig- 
nificant that  throughout  Riley's  Memorials  there  is  no 
mention  of  school  or  of  education ;  there  is  no  hint 
anywhere  how  the  children  of  the  working-classes  were 
taught.  One  thing  is  certain,  the  desire  for  learning 
was  gradually  growing  and  deepening  in  those  years ; 
and  when  the  Reformation  set  the  Bible  free,  there 
were  plenty — thanks  perhaps  to  King  Henry's  gram- 
mar-schools— in  the  class  of  craftsmen  who  could  read 
it.  But  as  yet  we  are  two  hundred  years  from  the 
freeing  of  the  Book. 

It  is  always  found  that  the  laws  are  strict  in  an  in- 
verse proportion  to  the  strength  of  the  executive. 
Thus,  had  the  laws  been  properly  carried  out,  London 


PLANTAGENET  243 

would  have  been  the  cleanest  and  the  most  orderly 
town  of  the  present,  past,  and  future.  Every  man 
was  enjoined  to  keep  the  front  of  his  house  clean  ;  no 
refuse  was  to  be  thrown  into  the  gutter;  no  one  was 
to  walk  the  streets  at  night.  When  the  curfew-bell 
rang,  first  from  St.  Martin's,  and  afterwards  from  all 
the  churches  together,  the  gates  of  the  City  were 
closed ;  the  taverns  were  shut ;  no  one  was  allowed 
to  walk  about  the  streets ;  no  boats  were  to  cross  the 
river ;  the  sergeants  of  Billingsgate  and  Queenhithe 
had  each  his  boat,  with  its  crew  of  four  men,  to  guard 
the  river  and  the  quays ;  guards  were  posted  at  the 
closed  gates ;  a  watch  of  six  men  was  set  in  every 
ward,  all  the  men  of  the  ward  being  liable  to  serve 
upon  it.  These  were  excellent  rules.  Yet  we  find 
men  haled  before  the  Mayor  charged  with  being  com- 
mon roreres  (roarers),  with  beating  people  in  the  streets, 
enticing  them  into  taverns,  where  they  were  made  to 
drink  and  to  gamble.  Among  the  common  roreres 
was  once  found,  alas  !  a  priest.  What,  however,  were 
the  other  people  doing  in  the  street  after  curfew? 
And  why  were  not  the  taverns  shut?  As  is  the 
strength  of  the  ruling  arm,  so  should  be  the  law.  We 
are  not  ourselves  free  from  the  reproach  of  passing 
laws  which  cannot  be  enforced  because  they  are 
against  the  will  of  the  people,  and  the  executive  is 
too  weak  to  carry  them  out  against  that  will.  People, 
you  see,  cannot  be  civilized  by  statute. 

The  wages  and  hours  of  work  of  the  craftsman 
have  not  been  satisfactorily  ascertained.  The  day's 
work  probably  meant  the  whole  day.  Like  the  rustic, 
he  would  begin  in  the  summer  at  five  and  leave  off  at 
7.30,  with  certain  breaks.  In  winter  he  would  work 


244 


LONDON 


through  the  daylight.  His  wages,  which  were  ordered 
for  the  craft  by  the  company,  seem  to  have  been  am- 
ple so  long  as  employment  was  continuous.  But  the 
crafts  were  always  complaining  of  foreign  competition. 
Edward  IV.,  in  1463,  states  that  owing  to  the  import 
of  wares  fully  wrought  and  ready  made  for  sale,  "  arti- 
ficers cannot  live  by  "their  mysteries  and  occupations 

as  they  have  done 
in  times  past,  but 
divers  of  them,  as 
well  householders 
as  hirelings,  and 
under  -  servants 
and  apprentices  in 
great  numbers,  be 
this  day  unoccu- 
pied, and  do  hard- 
ly live  in  great 
misery,  poverty, 

and  need."  Therefore  the  statute  enumerates  a  long 
list  of  things  that  are  not  to  be  exported.  Among 
these  we  observe  knives,  razors,  scissors — showing  that 
the  cutlery  trade  was  already  flourishing  then  —  but 
not  swords,  spear-heads,  or  armor  of  any  kind.  Actual 
artificers  were  not  to  be  employers  but  only  servants ; 
those  already  established  could  sell  in  gross  but  not 
in  retail,  and  they  were  not  to  have  alien  servants. 
That  there  was  discontent  among  the  working-men 
is  clear  from  these  statutes  and  from  the  constant 
attempts  of  the  craftsmen  to  form  journeyman,  or 
yeoman  guilds,  whose  real  objects,  though  they  might 
mask  them  under  the  name  of  religion,  were  to  in- 
crease wages  and  keep  out  new-comers. 


ARMS    OF    SIR    RICHARD   WHITTINGTON 


PLANTAGENET  245 

Apart  from  the  question  of  wages,  what  the  crafts- 
men wanted  was  what  the  masters,  too,  demanded — 
"  encouragement  of  natives,  discouragement  of  for- 
eigners, the  development  of  shipping,  and  the  amass- 
ing of  treasure.'  ' 

Such  were  the  people  of  London  in  the  fourteenth 
and  fifteenth  centuries.  Such  was  Plantagenet  Lon- 
don, the  land  of  Cocaigne-^Cockney  Land — whither 
the  penniless  young  gentleman,  the  son  of  the  coun- 
try squire,  made  his  way  in  search  of  the  fortune 
which  others  had  picked  up  on  its  golden  pavement. 

Strewed  with  gold  and  silver  sheen, 

In  Cockneys'  streets  no  molde  is  seen ; 

Pancakes  be  the  shingles  alle 

Of  church  and  cloister,  bower  and  halle; 

Running  rivers,  grete  and  fine, 

Of  hypocras  and  ale  and  wine. 

But,  indeed,  a  pavement  of  flints  and  stones  the 
City  offered  to  any  who  tried  to  win  her  fortunes  save 
by  the  way  prescribed.  Of  course  there  were — there 
always  are — many  who  cannot  enter  by  the  appointed 
gate,  nor  keep  to  the  ordered  way.  As  it  is  now,  so 
it  was  then.  There  were  rogues  and  cheats ;  there 
were  men  who  preferred  any  way  of  life  to  the  honest 
way.  How  the  City  in  its  wisdom  dealt  with  those 
we  shall  now  see. 

At  first  sight  one  may  be  struck  with  the  leniency 
of  justice.  In  cases  which  in  later  years  were  pun- 
ished by  flogging  at  the  cart-tail,  by  hanging,  by  long 
imprisonment,  the  criminal  of  the  fourteenth  century 
stood  in  pillory,  or  was  made  to  ride  through  the 

1  Cunningham,  Growth  of  English  Industry,  p.  416. 


246 


LONDON 


streets,  the  nature  of  his  crime  symbolized  by  some- 
thing hung  from  his  neck.  There  were  as  yet  no 
burnings,  no  slicing  off  of  ears  ;  there  was  no  rack,  no 
torture  by  rope,  boot,  or  water.  It  is  true  that  those 
who  ventured  upon  violence  to  the  sacred  person  of 
an  Alderman  were  liable  to  have  the  right  hand  struck 

off  ;  but  at  the  last  mo- 
ment that  officer  always 
begged  and  obtained  a 
commutation,  while  the 
criminal  made  humble 
submission.  Those  who 
have  entered  upon  an  in- 
heritance of  law-abiding 
and  of  order  have  forgot- 
ten by  what  severities 
men  were  forced  into  ex- 
ternal forms  of  respect 
for  the  officers  of  justice. 
Then,  again,  the  Alder- 
man knew  every  man  in 
his  ward;  he  was  no 
stranger  among  his  peo- 
ple; he  knew  the  circum- 


ARMS  GRANTED  TO  THE  CRAFT  OF  THE 
IRONMONGERS  OF  LONDON  BY  LANCAS- 
TER  KING  OF  ARMS,  A.D.  1466 


tllC 
Qf        eVCTV      OttC   '        he 

was  punishing  a  brother 
who    had    brought    the 

ward  into  disrepute  by  his  unruly  conduct  ;  he  was 

therefore  tender,  saving  the  dignity  of  his  office  and 

his  duty  to  the  city. 

For  instance,  it  was  once  discovered  that  wholesale 

robberies  were  carried  on  by  certain  bakers  who  made 


PLANTAGENET  247 

holes  in  their  moulding-boards,  and  so  filched  the 
dough.  These  rogues  in  the  last  century  would  have 
been  flogged  unmercifully.  Robert  de  Bretaigne, 
Mayor  A.D.  1387,  was  satisfied  by  putting  them  in  pil- 
lory till  after  vespers  at  St.  Paul's,  with  dough  hung 
about  their  necks,  so  that  all  the  world  might  know 
why  they  were  there.  When  certain  "  tapicers  "  were 
charged  with  selling  false  blankets,  that  is,  blankets 
which  had  been  "  vamped  "  in  foreign  parts  with  the 
hair  of  oxen  and  cows,  the  blankets  were  ordered  to 
be  burned.  On  the  other  hand,  highway  robbery, 
burglaries,  and  some  cases  of  theft  were  punished  by 
hanging.  The  unhappy  Desiderata  de  Torgnton,  for 
instance,  in  an  evil  moment  stole  from  a  servant  of 
the  Lady  Alice  de  Lisle  thirty  dishes  and  twenty-four 
salt-cellars  of  silver.  The  servant  was  bound  by  sure- 
ties that  he  would  prosecute  for  felony,  and  did  so, 
with  the  result  that  Desiderata  was  hanged,  and  her 
chattels  confiscated  ;  but  of  chattels  had  she  none. 

For  selling  putrid  meat  the  offender  was  put  in  pil- 
lory, and  the  bad  meat — dreadful  addition  to  the  sen- 
tence— burned  beneath  his  nose.  The  sale  of  "  false  " 
goods — that  is,  things  not  made  as  they  should  be 
made,  either,  of  bad  materials  or  of  inferior  materials 
—was  always  punished  by  destruction  of  the  things. 

What  should  be  done  to  a  man  who  spoke  disre- 
spectfully of  the  Mayor?  One  Roger  Torold,  citizen 
and  vintner,  in  the  year  of  grace  1355,  and  in  the 
twenty-eighth  year  of  our  Sovereign  Lord  King  Ed- 
ward III.,  said  one  day,  in  the  presence  of  witnesses, 
that  he  was  ready  to  defy  the  Mayor;  and  that  if  he 
should  catch  the  Mayor  outside  the  City,  then  the 
Mayor  should  never  come  back  to  it  alive.  These 


248 


LONDON 


things  being  reported,  the  Mayor  caused  him  to  be 
brought  before  himself,  the  Aldermen,  and  Sheriffs  at 
the  Guildhall.  The  prisoner  confessed  his  crime,  and 
put  himself  upon  the  favor  of  the  Court.  He  was 


GUILDHALL,   KING   STREET,   LONDON 


committed  to  prison  while  the  Court  considered  what 
should  be  done  to  him.  Being  brought  to  the  bar,  he 
offered  to  pay  a  fine  of  one  hundred  tuns  of  wine  for 
restoration  to  the  favor  of  the  Mayor.  This  was  ac- 
cepted, on  the  condition  that  he  should  also  make  a 
recognizance  of  ^40  sterling  to  be  paid  if  ever  again 
he  should  abuse  or  insult  the  name  or  person  of  the 
Mayor.  For  perjury,  the  offender  was,  for  a  first 
crime,  taken  to  the  Guildhall,  and  there  placed  upon 
a  high  stool,  bareheaded,  before  the  Mayor  and  Alder- 
men. For  the  second  offence  he  was  placed  in  pil- 


PLANTAGENET  249 

lory.  For  women,  the  thew  was  substituted  for  the 
pillory.  One  Alice,  wife  of  Robert  de  Causton,  stood 
in  the  thew  for  thickening  the  bottom  of  a  quart-pot 
with  pitch,  so  as  to  give  short  measure.  The  said 
quart-pot  was  divided  into  two'  parts,  of  which  one 
half  was  tied  to  the  pillory  in  sight  of  the  people,  and 
the  other  half  was  kept  in  the  Guildhall. 

Death  by  hanging  or  pillory.  These  were  almost 
the  only  punishments.  The  cases  before  the  Mayor's 
Court  remind  us  of  the  remarkable  resemblance  we 
bear  to  our  ancestors.  They  are  monotonous  because 
they  read  like  the  cases  in  a  modern  Police  Court. 
Giles  Pykeman  goes  in  terror  of  his  life,  because  cer- 
tain persons  threaten  him,  but  they  find  surety  for 
good  behavior.  John  Edmond  Commonger,  convict- 
ed of  passing  off  bad  oats  for  good  —  pillory.  John 
William,  for  passing  off  rings  of  latten  as  rings  of  gold 
—pillory.  Nicolas  Mollere,  for  spreading  false  news 
— pillory,  with  a  whetstone  round  his  neck  to  mark 
the  offence.  Heavens!  if  this  offence  were  again 
made  penal.  John  Mayn,  indicted  for  being  a  leper 
—banished  out  of  the  city.  Robert  Brebason,  stock 
fish-monger,  charged  with  assault  in  presence  of  the 
Mayor.  Not  a  case  for  pillory  this :  let  him  be  im- 
prisoned for  a  year  and  a  day  in  Newgate.  Alice 
Sheltoir,  charged  with  being  a  common  scold — to  the 
thew.  John  Rykorre,  cordwainer,  for  forging  a  bond 
— pillory. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  times  I  give  the  story  of 
William  Blakeney.  He  was  a  shuttle-maker  by  trade, 
but  a  pilgrim  by  profession.  He  dressed  for  the  part 
with  long  hair,  long  gown,  and  bare  feet.  He  loitered 
about  in  places  where  men  resorted — taverns  and  such 


250  LONDON 

— and  there  entertained  all  comers  with  travellers' 
tales.  He  had  been  everywhere,  this  pious  and  ad- 
venturous pilgrim.  He  had  seen  Seville,  city  of  sacred 
relics;  Rome,  the  abode  of  his  Holiness  the  Pope;  he 
had  even  seen  the  Pope  himself.  He  had  been  to  the 
Holy  Land,  and  stood  within  the  very  sepulchre  of 
our  Lord.  And  what  with  the  strange  creatures  he 
had  met  with  in  those  far-off  lands,  and  the  men  and 
women  among  whom  he  had  sojourned,  and  the  things 
he  could  tell  you,  and  the  things  which  he  postponed 
till  the  next  time,  the  story  would  fill  volumes.  For 
six  years  he  lived  in  great  comfort,  eating  and  drink- 
ing of  the  best,  always  at  the  expense  of  his  hearers. 
This  man  must  have  been  an  unequalled  story-teller. 
Six  years  of  invention  ever  fresh  and  new !  Then  he 
was  found  out — he  had  never  been  a  pilgrimage  in  his 
life.  He  had  never  been  out  of  sight  of  the  London 
walls.  So  he  stood  in  pillory — this  poor  novelist,  who 
would  in  these  days  have  commanded  so  much  respect 
and  such  solid  rewards  —  he  stood  in  pillory,  with  a 
whetstone  round  his  neck,  as  if  he  had  been  a  com- 
mon liar !  And  then  he  had  to  go  back  to  the  dull 
monotony  of  shuttle-making,  and  that  in  silence,  with 
nobody  to  believe  him  any  more.  Well,  he  shortly 
afterwards  died,  I  am  convinced,  of  suppressed  fiction. 
But  perhaps  his  old  friends  rallied  round  him,  and  by 
the  light  of  the  fire  he  still  beguiled  the  long  evenings 
by  telling  for  the  hundredth  time  of  the  one-eyed 
men,  and  the  men  with  tails,  and  the  men  who  have 
but  one  leg,  and  use  their  one  foot  for  an  umbrella 
against  the  scorching  sun — all  of  whom  he  had  seen 
in  the  deserts  on  the  way  from  Jerusalem  to  Damas- 
cus, where  St.  Paul  was  converted. 


PLANTAGENET  253 

On  a  day  in  the  beginning  of  October,  1382,  there 
was  great  excitement  in  the  parish  of  St.  Mildred, 
Poultry.  A  certain  mazer,  or  silver  cup,  the  property 
of  Dame  Matilda  de  Eye,  had  been  stolen.  Now, 
whether  Alan,  the  water-carrier,  had  his  suspicions,  or 
whether  he  was  himself  suspected,  or  whether  he 
wished  to  fix  the  guilt  on  somebody  else,  I  know  not, 
but  he  repaired  to  the  house  of  Robert  Berewold,  of 
great  repute  for  art  magic,  and  inquired  of  him  as  to 
the  real  thief.  Whereupon  Robert  took  a  loaf,  and 
in  the  top  of  it  fixed  a  round  peg  of  wood,  and  four 
knives  at  the  four  sides,  so  as  to  present  the  fig- 
ure of  a  cross.  He  then  did  "  soothsaying  and  art 
magic  "  over  the  loaf.  After  which  he  declared  that 
Johanne  Wolsy  was  the  person  who  had  stolen  the 
cup. 

This  thing  being  bruited  abroad,  and  the  voice  of 
the  indignant  Johanne  ascending  to  the  ears  of  the 
Aldermen,  the  said  Robert  was  attached  to  make  an- 
swer to  the  Mayor  and  commonalty  as  in  a  plea  of 
deceit  and  falsehood.  Answer  there  was  none.  Where- 
upon Robert  stood  in  pillory  for  one  hour,  the  loaf, 
peg,  and  knives  hung  about  his  neck ;  and  on  the  fol- 
lowing Sunday  he  went  to  the  parish  church  —  it  is 
now  pulled  down — and  in  the  presence  of  the  congre- 
gation confessed  that  he  had  falsely  defamed  the 
same  Johanne.  Meantime  Alan,  one  may  believe, 
had  consigned  the  mazer  to  a  safe  place,  and  joined 
in  the  congratulations  of  Johanne's  friends. 

Would  you  know  how  a  young  married  couple  set 
up  house -keeping?  Here  is  the  inventory  of  the 
household  furniture  of  such  a  pair  in  the  fourteenth 
century.  It  is  not  the  only  document  of  the  kind 


254 


LONDON 


which  exists,  but  it  is   interesting  because   it   forms 
part  of  a  story  which  remains  unfinished. 

The  inventory  belongs  to  the  year  1337.  The  pro- 
prietor's name  was  Hugh  le  Bevere ;  that  of  his  wife 
Alice.  Hugh  le  Bevere  was  a  craftsman  of  the  better 

sort,  but  not  a  mas- 
ter. He  was  so  well 
off  that  the  furniture 
of  his  house,  includ- 
ing clothes,  was  val- 
ued at  £12  iSs.  Afd., 
which,  being  inter- 
preted into  modern 
money,  means  about 
.£200.  He  had  been 
married  but  a  short 
time  when  the  events 
occurred  which 
caused  this  invento- 
ry to  be  drawn  up. 
The  newly -married 


ANCIENT    PLATE 


pair  lived  in  a  house 
consisting  of  two 

rooms,  one  above  the  other.  The  lower  room,  which 
was  kitchen  and  keeping-room  in  one,  was  divided  from 
the  houses  on  either  side  by  solid  stone  walls ;  it  had 
a  chimney  and  a  fireplace  ;  the  walls  were  hung  round 
with  kitchen  utensils,  tools,  and  weapons;  a  window 
opened  to  the  street,  the  upper  part  of  which  was 
glazed,  while  the  lower  part  could  be  closed  by  a  stout 
shutter;  the  door  opened  into  the  street;  there  was 
another  door  at  the  back,  which  opened  upon  a  but- 
tery, where  there  stood  ranged  in  a  row  six  casks  of 


PLANTAGENET  255 

wine.  One  folding -table  and  two  chairs  served  for 
their  wants,  because  they  were  not  rich  enough  to  en- 
tertain their  friends.  A  ladder  led  to  the  upper  room, 
which  was  an  attic  or  garret,  built  of  wood  and 
thatched  with  rush.  Here  was  the  bed  with  a  mat- 
tress, three  feather  beds,  and  two  pillows.  A  great 
wooden  coffer  held  their  household  gear ;  here  were 
six  blankets  and  one  serge,  a  coverlet  with  shields  of 
sendall  (a  kind  of  thin  silk),  eight  linen  sheets,  four 
table-cloths.  The  clothes,  which  were  laid  in  chests 
or  hung  upon  the  wall,  consisted  of  three  surcoats  of 
worsted  and  ray ;  one  coat  with  a  hood  of  perset 
(peach-colored  cloth),  and  another  of  worsted;  two 
robes  of  perset ;  one  of  medley,  furred  ;  one  of  scarlet, 
furred ;  a  great  hood  of  sendall  with  edging ;  one 
camise  (only  one !)  and  half  a  dozen  savenapes  (aprons). 
One  perceives  that  the  inventory  omits  many  things. 
Where,  for  instance,  were  the  hosen  and  the  shoon  ? 
For  kitchen  utensils  there  were  brass  pots,  a  grate, 
andirons,  basins,  washing  vessels,  a  tripod,  an  iron 
horse,  an  iron  spit,  a  frying-pan,  a  funnel,  and  two 
ankers — i.e.  tubs.  They  had  one  candlestick  "  of  lat- 
tone ;"  two  plates ;  an  aumbrey  (cabinet  or  small  cup- 
board); curtains  to  hang  before  the  doors  to  keep  out 
the  cold ;  cushions  and  a  green  carpet ;  and  for  the 
husband  a  haketon,  or  suit  of  leather  armor,  and  an 
iron  head-piece.  Of  knives,  forks,  wooden  plates,  cups, 
glasses,  or  drinking  measures  there  is  nothing  said  at 
all.  But  it  is  evident  that  the  house  was  provided 
with  everything  necessary  for  solid  comfort ;  plenty 
of  kitchen  vessels,  for  instance,  and  plenty  of  soft 
feather-beds,  blankets,  pillows,  curtains,  and  sheets. 
Every  morning  at  six  o'clock,  after  a  hunch  of 


256  LONDON 

bread,  a  substantial  slice  of  cold  meat,  and  a  pull  at 
the  black-jack  of  small  ale,  Hugh  le  Bevere  walked  off 
to  his  day's  work.  Then  Alice,  left  at  home,  washed 
and  scoured,  made  and  mended,  cooked  the  dinner, 
talked  to  the  neighbors,  and,  when  all  was  done,  sat  in 
the  door-way  enjoying  the  sunshine  and  spinning 
busily. 

They  had  been  married  but  a  short  time.  There 
were  no  children.  Then  —  one  knows  nothing;  one 
must  not  judge  harshly ;  there  may  have  been  jeal- 
ousy; there  may  have  been  cause  for  jealousy;  per- 
haps the  woman  had  a  tongue  unendurable  (four- 
teenth-century tongues  were  cruelly  sharp) ;  perhaps 
the  man  had  a  temper  uncontrolled  (in  that  century 
there  were  many  such) ;  but  no  one  knows,  and,  again, 
we  must  not  judge — then,  I  say,  the  end  came,  sud- 
denly and  without  warning.  When  it  was  all  over, 
some  of  the  neighbors  thought  they  had  heard  high 
words  and  a  smothered  shriek,  but  then  we  often 
think  we  have  heard  what  probably  happened.  In 
the  morning  Hugh  le  Bevere  went  not  forth  to  his 
work  as  usual;  Alice  did  not  open  the  door;  the 
shutters  remained  closed.  The  neighbors  knocked ; 
there  was  no  answer.  They  sent  for  the  Alderman, 
who  came  with  his  sergeants,  and  broke  open  the 
door.  Alas!  alas!  They  found  the  body  of  Alice 
lying  stark  and  dead  upon  the  floor ;  beside  her  sat 
her  husband  with  white  face  and  haggard  eyes,  and 
the  evidence  of  his  crime,  the  knife  itself,  lying  where 
he  had  thrown  it. 

They  haled  him  to  the  Lord  Mayor's  Court.  They 
questioned  him.  He  made  no  reply  at  first,  looking 
as  one  distraught ;  when  he  spoke,  he  refused  to 


PLANTAGENET 


257 


plead.  For  this,  in  later  times,  he  would  have  been 
pressed  to  death.  What  was  done  to  him  was  almost 
as  bad  ;  for  they  took  him  to  Newgate,  and  shut  him 
up  in  a  cell  with  penance — that  is  to  say,  on  bread  and 
water — until  he  died. 

This  done,  they  buried  the  unfortunate  Alice,  and 
made  the  inventory  of  all  the  chattels,  which  the  City 
confiscated,  and  sold  for  £12  i8.y.  4</.,  out  of  which,  no 


doubt,  they  paid  for  the  fu- 
neral of  the  woman  and  the 
penance  of  the  man.  The 
rest,  one  hopes,  was  laid  out 

in  masses,  as  far  as  it  would  go,  far  the  souls  of  the 
hapless  pair.     Death  has  long  since  released  Hugh 
17 


258  LONDON 

le  Bevere ;  he  has  entered  his  plea  before  another 
Court;  but  the  City  has  never  learned  why  he  killed 
his  wife,  or  if,  indeed,  he  really  did  kill  her. 

Of  Plantagenet  London  this  is  my  picture.  You 
see  a  busy,  boisterous,  cheerful  city ;  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  cities  of  Ghent  and  Bruges  and  Antwerp, 
the  busiest  and  the  most  prosperous  city  of  the  west- 
ern world,  with  the  greatest  liberty  of  the  people, 
the  greatest  plenty  of  all  good  things,  and  the  hap- 
piest conditions  of  any  town.  You  have  seen  that 
though  the  sovereign  was  King  within  as  well  as  with- 
out the  walls,  there  was  no  other  Over -Lord;  the 
royal  hand  was  sometimes  heavy,  but  its  weight  was 
better  to  bear  than  the  internal  dissensions  that  rav- 
aged the  Italian  cities;  it  was  better  that  London 
should  suffer  with  the  rest  of  the  country  than  that 
she  should  sit,  like  Venice,  secure  and  selfish  beside 
her  quays,  though  the  people  of  the  land  behind  were 
torn  with  civil  wars  and  destroyed  by  famine  and 
overrun  by  a  foreign  enemy. 

When  we  think  of  this  period  let  us  never  forget  its 
external  splendor — the  silken  banners,  the  heralds  in 
their  embroidered  coats,  the  livery  of  the  great  lords, 
the  Mayor  and  Aldermen  in  their  robes  riding  to  hear 
mass  at  St.  Paul's,  the  cloth  of  gold,  the  vair  and  min- 
iver, the  ermine  and  the  sable,  the  robes  of  perset  and 
the  hoods  of  sendall,  the  red  velvet  and  the  scarlet 
silk,  the  great  gold  chains,  the  caps  embroidered  with 
pearls,  the  horses  with  their  trappings,  the  banners 
and  the  shields,  the  friars  jostling  the  parish  priests, 
the  men-at-arms,  the  city  ladies,  as  glorious  with  their 
raiment  as  the  ladies  of  the  court,  the  knights,  the 
common  folk,  the  merchant,  and  the  prentice.  Mostly 


PLANTAGENET  261 

I  like  to  think  of  the  prentice.  One  always  envies 
the  young ;  theirs  is  the  inheritance.  The  prentice 
lived  amid  these  glories,  which  seemed  like  pageants 
invented  entirely  for  his  delight.  It  was  time  when 
the  fleeting  shows  and  vanities  of  life  were  valued  all 
the  more  because  they  were  so  fleeting.  He  looked 
around,  and  his  heart  swelled  with  the  joy  of  thinking 
that  some  day  these  things  would  fall  to  him  if  he 
was  lucky,  diligent,  and  watchful.  His  was  the  three- 
fold vow  of  industry,  obedience,  and  duty.  By  keep- 
ing this  vow  he  would  attain  to  the  place  and  station 
of  his  master. 

Meantime,  there  were  great  sights  to  be  seen  and 
no  hinderance  to  his  seeing  them. 

When  there  any  ridings  were  in  Chepe, 
Out  of  the  shoppe  thider  would  he  lepe : 
And  till  that  he  had  all  the  sights  y  seen, 
And  danced  well  he  would  not  come  again. 

For  the  continued  noise  and  uproar  of  the  City,  for 
its  crowds,  for  its  smells,  the  people  cared  nothing. 
They  were  part  of  the  City.  They  loved  everything 
that  belonged  to  it — their  great  cathedral ;  their  hun- 
dred churches ;  their  monasteries ;  their  palaces  and 
the  men-at-arms ;  the  nobles,  priests,  and  monks ;  the 
Mayor  and  Aldermen;  the  ships  and  the  sailors;  the 
merchants  and  the  craftsmen ;  the  ridings  and  the 
festivals  and  the  holy  days ;  the  ringing,  clinging, 
clashing  of  the  bells  all  day  long;  the  drinking  at  the 
taverns;  the  wrestling  and  the  archery;  the  dancing; 
the  pipe  and  tabor ;  the  pageants,  and  the  mumming 

and  the  love-making — all,  all  they  loved.     And  they 
17* 


262  LONDON 

thought  in  their  pride  that  there  was  not  anywhere  in 
the  whole  habitable  world — witness  the  pilgrims  and 
the  ship-captains,  who  had  seen  the  whole  habitable 
world  —  any  city  that  might  compare  with  famous 
London  Town. 


VI 

TUDOR 
I.  SPRING-TIME  AMONG  THE  RUINS 

IF  the  London  of  the  Third   Edward  was  a  city 
of  palaces,  that  of  Queen  Elizabeth  was  a  city  of 
ruins. 

Ruins  everywhere !  Ruins  of  cloisters,  halls,  dor- 
mitories, courts,  and  chapels,  and  churches.  Ruins 
of  carved  altar-pieces,  canopies,  statues,  painted  win- 
dows, and  graven  fonts.  Ruins  of  old  faiths  and  old 
traditions.  Ruins  everywhere.  Only  consider  what 
became  of  the  monastic  buildings.  King  Edward's 
Cistercian  House,  called  the  New  Abbey,  or  Eastmin- 
ster,  was  pulled  "  clean  down,"  and  in  its  place  store- 
houses for  victuals  and  ovens  for  making  ships'  bis- 
cuits were  set  up.  On  the  abbey  grounds  were  erect- 
ed small  tenements  for  poor  working-people,  the  only 
inhabitants  of  that  neighborhood  where  is  now  the 
.Mint.  Sir  Arthur  Darcie  it  was  who  did  this.  The 
Convent  of  St.  Clare,  called  the  Minories,  was  similarly 
treated,  its  site  converted  into  storehouses.  The  old 
buildings  are  always  said  to  have  been  entirely  pulled 
down,  but  their  destruction  was  never  thorough.  Walls 
were  everywhere  left  standing,  because  it  was  too 


264 


LONDON 


much  trouble  to  pull  them  down.  For  instance,  the 
north  wall  of  the  present  mean  little  Church  of  the 
Holy  Trinity,  Minories,  ugliest  and  meanest  of  all 
modern  London  churches,  was  formerly  part  of  the 
wall  of  the  nuns'  chapel. 

More  fortunate  than  the  other  monastic  churches, 
that  of  the  Austin  Friars  was  allowed  to  remain  stand- 
ing. The  nave  was  walled  off  and  assigned  to  the 

Dutch  residents,  with 
whom  it  has  continued 
to  this  day.  You  may 
attend  the  service  on 
Sunday,  and  while  the 
preacher  in  the  black 
gown  addresses  his 
scanty  audience  in  the 
language  which,  though 
it  sounds  so  much  like 
English,  you  cannot  un- 
derstand, you  may  look  about  you,  and  think  of  the 
Augustine  Brothers  who  built  this  church.  In  their 
time  it  was  filled  with  monuments,  of  which  not  a  sin- 
gle one  now  remains.  The  nave  was  greatly  damaged 
by  a  fire  in  1862,  but  the  walls  and  columns  of  the  an- 
cient church  remain.  The  rest  of  the  church,  including 
the  finest  and  most  beautiful  spire  in  the  whole  city, 
was  all  pulled  down  by  the  Marquis  of  Winchester, 
who  broke  up  and  sold  the  whole  of  the  monuments 
for  .£100.  In  this  church  were  buried,  among  other 
illustrious  dead,  the  great  Hubert  de  Burgh  ;  Edmund 
Plantagenet,  half  brother  to  Richard  II.;  the  barons 
who  fell  at  the  battle  of  Barnet ;  Richard  FitzAlan, 
Earl  of  Arundel,  beheaded  1397;  the  Earl  of  Oxford, 


BOAR    IN   EASTCHEAP 


TUDOR  265 

beheaded  1463  ;  and  Edward  Strafford,  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham, beheaded  1521.  Winchester  House,  which 
stood  till  fifty  years  ago,  was  built  on  part  of  the  abbey 
grounds  ;  Cromwell  House,  on  a  site  where  now  stands 
the  Drapers'  Hall,  on  another  part. 

The  Priory  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  granted  to  Sir 
Thomas  Audley,  fared  worse  still,  for  the  whole  church 
—  choir,  transepts,  nave,  steeple,  and  all — was,  with 
great  labor,  pulled  down,  and  the  whole  materials  and 
monuments  sold  for  paving  or  building  stones  at  six- 
pence a  cart-load.  The  ring  of  nine  bells  was  divided 
between  Stepney  Church  and  St.  Katherine  Cree, 
where,  I  believe,  they  still  hang  and  do  their  duty. 
So  much,  and  that  is  all,  is  left  of  this  proud  founda- 
tion. Sir  Thomas  Audley,  who  obtained  the  precinct 
by  gift  of  the  King,  built  a  house  upon  it.  His  daugh- 
ter and  heiress  marrying  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  the 
house  and  grounds  were  named  after  their  new  owner. 
Duke's  Place  and  Duke  Street  preserve  the  new  name. 
The  former,  now  a  mean  square,  crowded  with  Jews 
engaged  in  the  fruit  trade,  is  certainly  the  site  of  one 
of  the  courts  of  the  old  priory.  It  is  at  the  back 
of  St.  Katherine  Cree  Church  in  Leadenhall  Street. 
Strange,  that  of  this  most  rich  and  splendid  house  not 
a  vestige  should  remain  either  of  name,  or  building, 
or  tradition. 

Crutched  Friars'  Church  was  made  into  a  carpen- 
ter's shop  and  a  tennis  court.  Their  refectory,  a  very 
noble  hall,  became  a  glass-house,  and  was  burned  to 
the  ground  in  the  year  1575. 

St.  Mary's  Spital,  outside  Bishopsgate,  which  had 
been  a  hospital  with  one  hundred  and  eighty  beds, 
was  entirely  destroyed  and  built  over.  But  Spital 


266  LONDON 

Square,  which  now  remains,  marks  the  site  of  the 
church-yard,  where  stood  (in  the  north-east  corner) 
the  famous  spital  pulpit,  from  which,  for  three  hun- 
dred years,  sermons  were  preached  at  Easter  before 
the  Lord  Mayor  and  Aldermen  and  the  citizens.  It 
is  an  illustration  of  English  conservatism  that  long 
after  the  hospital  was  demolished,  and  when  the  pul- 
pit stood  in  an  ordinary  square  of  private  residences, 
the  same  custom  was  kept  up,  with  the  same  official 
attendance  of  the  corporation. 

The  Nunnery  of  St.  Helen's  became  the  property 
of  the  Leathersellers'  Company.  The  nuns'  chapel 
still  remains  forming  the  north  part  of  a  church,  which, 
for  its  antiquity  and  its  monuments,  is  one  of  the 
most  interesting  in  London.  The  nuns'  refectory 
formed  the  Company's  Hall  until  the  year  1790,  when, 
with  its  ancient  crypt,  it  was  pulled  down  to  make 
way  for  the  present  St.  Helen's  Place.  Considerable 
ruins  of  the  nunnery  remained  until  the  same  time. 

The  Church  of  the  Knights  Hospitallers  was  blown 
up  with  gunpowder ;  its  ruins  and  those  of  the  priory 
buildings  remained  for  many  years.  The  Charter 
House  was  first  given  by  Henry  VIII.  to  Sir  Thomas 
Audley,  passed  from  him  to  Lord  North,  to  Dudley, 
Duke  of  Northumberland,  to  Lord  North  again,  to  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk,  to  the  Crown,  to  the  Earl  of  Suffolk, 
and  to  Thomas  Sutton.  The  last  transfer  was  in  161 1. 
Sutton  endowed  it  as  a  charity  under  the  name  of 
the  Hospital  of  King  James.  This  noble  foundation 
has  ever  since  existed  as  a  hospital  for  decayed  gen- 
tlemen and  a  school  for  boys.  Some  of  the  old  mon- 
astic buildings  yet  survive  in  the  Charter  House.  Its 
name  of  the  Hospital  of  King  James  has  long  been 


TUDOR  267 

forgotten.  The  place  has  been  celebrated  by  Thack- 
eray, and  it  is,  at  this  day,  the  most  beautiful  and  the 
most  venerable  monument  of  old  London. 

The  magnificent  Church  of  the  Dominicans,  or 
Black  Friars,  was  destroyed.  Either  the  hall  of  the 
abbey  or  a  portion  of  the  church  was  used  as  a  store- 
house for  the  "  properties  "  of  pageants — strange  fate 
for  the  house  of  the  Dominicans,  those  austere  up- 
holders of  doctrine.  A  play-house  was  erected  by 
Shakespeare  and  his  friends  among  the  ruins,  which 
remained  standing  for  a  long  time.  Only  a  few  years 
ago  the  extension  of  the  Times  offices  in  Printing 
House  Square  brought  to  light  many  substantial  re- 
mains. The  Abbey  of  Bermondsey  furnished  materi- 
als and  a  site  for  a  great  house  for  the  Earl  of  Sussex. 
A  tavern  was  built  on  the  site  of  the  Church  of  St. 
Martin's  le  Grand.  The  Church  of  St.  Bartholomew's 
Priory  was  pulled  down  to  the  choir,  which  was  con- 
verted into  a  parish  church.  The  bells  were  put  up  in 
the  tower  of  St.  Sepulchre.  The  Church  of  the  Grey 
Friars  was  spared;  but  as  for  its  monuments  —  con- 
sider! There  were  buried  here  the  queens  of  Ed- 
ward I.  and  Edward  II.,  the  queen  of  David  Bruce, 
an  innumerable  company  of  great  lords,  nobles,  and 
fighting  men,  with  their  dames  and  daughters.  The 
place  was  a  Campo  Santo  of  mediaeval  worthies.  Their 
monuments,  Stow  writes,  "  are  wholly  defaced.  There 
were  nine  tombs  of  alabaster  and  marble,  environed 
with  '  strikes '  of  iron,  in  the  choir,  and  one  tomb  in 
the  body  of  the  church,  also  coped  with  iron,  all  pulled 
down,  besides  sevenscore  gravestones  of  marble." 
The  whole  were  sold  for  .£50  or  thereabouts  by  Sir 
Martin  Bowes,  goldsmith  and  Alderman  of  London. 


268  LONDON 

Surely  the  carved  marble  and  sculptured  alabaster  did 
not  teach  the  hated  papistical  superstitions ;  yet  they 
all  went ;  and  it  was  with  bare  walls,  probably  washed 
white  or  yellow  to  hide  the  frescos,  that  the  building 
became  the  parish  now  called  Christ  Church.  The 
monastery  buildings  were  converted  into  the  Bluecoat 
School. 

Such  was  the  fate  of  the  greater  houses.  Add  to 
these  the  smaller  foundations,  all  whelmed  in  the 
common  destruction ;  the  colleges,  such  as  that  of  St. 
Spirit,  founded  by  Whittington ;  that  founded  by 
Walworth  ;  that  founded  by  Richard  III.,  attached 
to  Allhallows  Barking;  St.  John's,  Holywell ;  St. 
Thomas  of  Aeon,  a  rich  foundation  with  a  lovely 
church ;  the  College  of  Jesus ;  the  Hospital  of  St. 
Anthony;  Jesus  Commons;  Elsing  Spital ;  and  we 
begin  to  realize  that  London  was  literally  a  city  of 
ruins. 

It  is  at  first  hard  to  understand  how  there  should 
have  been,  even  among  the  baser  sort,  so  little  rever- 
ence for  the  past,  so  little  regard  for  art ;  that  these 
treasure-houses  of  precious  marbles  and  rare  carvings 
should  have  been  rifled  and  destroyed  without  raising 
so  much  as  a  murmur;  nay,  that  the  very  buildings 
themselves  should  have  been  pulled  down  without  a 
protest.  Once  only  the  citizens  remonstrated.  It 
was  in  the  hope  of  saving  from  destruction  the  lofty 
and  most  beautiful  spire  of  Austin  Friars,  but  in  vain. 
It  seems  to  us  impossible  that  the  tombs  of  so  many 
worthies  should  have  been  destroyed  without  the  in- 
dignation of  all  who  knew  the  story  of  the  past.  Yet 
in  our  own  day  we  have  seen — nay,  we  see  daily — the 
wanton  and  useless  destruction  of  ancient  buildings. 


TUDOR  269 

Winchester  House,  which  ought  to  have  'been  kept  as 
a  national  monument,  was  pulled  down  in  1839;  Sir 
Paul  Finder's  house,  another  unique  specimen,  van- 
ished only  yesterday ;  within  the  last  few  years  a 
dozen  city  churches  have  been  destroyed,  in  total  dis- 
regard to  their  historical  associations.  At  this  very 
moment  the  church  where  John  Carpenter,  Whitting- 
ton's  executor  and  the  founder  of  the  City  of  London 
school,  the  church  whose  site  has  been  consecrated  as 
long  as  that  of  any  church  in  the  city,  where  King 
Alfred  may  have  worshipped,  is  standing  roofless, 
waiting  to  make  way  for  offices  not  wanted.  Nay, 
the  very  city  clergy  themselves,  the  official  guardians 
of  all  that  is  venerable,  have,  in  our  own  days — the 
actual,  living  city  clergy !  —  basely  sold  their  most 
beautiful  old  house,  Sion  College,  and  built  a  new 
and  garish  place  on  the  Thames  Embankment,  which 
they  call  Sion  College !  It  is  unfortunately  too  true 
that  there  is  not,  at  any  time  or  with  any  people,  rev- 
erence for  things  venerable,  old,  and  historical,  save 
with  a  few.  The  greater  part  are  careless  of  the  past, 
unable  to  see  or  feel  anything  but  the  present.  The 
city  clergy  of  to-day  are  no  better  than  Sir  Thomas 
Audrey,  Sir  Arthur  Darcie,  and  the  rest. 

There  were  other  ruins.  Cromwell's  men  were  not 
the  only  zealots  against  popish  monuments,  signs,  and 
symbols.  The  parish  churches  were  filled  with  ruins. 
The  carved  fonts  were  defaced  ;  the  side  chapels  were 
desolate  and  empty;  the  altars  were  stripped  ;  the  rood 
screens  were  removed ;  the  roods  themselves  were 
taken  down;  the  painted  walls  were  whitewashed  ;  the 
simple  service  that  was  read  in  the  vulgar  tongue 
seemed  to  the  people  at  first  a  ruin  of  the  old  mass  ; 


2/0  LONDON 

the  clergyman,  called  minister  or  priest,  who  preached 
in  the  black  gown,  was  a  ruin  of  the  priest  in  his 
gorgeous  robes ;  the  very  doctrines  of  the  Protestant 
faith  seemed  at  first  built  out  of  the  ruins  of  the  old, 
as  the  second  Temple  was  built  upon  the  ruins  of  the 
first,  and  was  but  a  poor  thing  in  comparison.  At 
first  only,  because  the  work  was  thorough,  and  in  a 
single  generation  all  the  traditions  of  the  ancient 
faith  were  lost  and  forgotten. 

If,  indeed,  the  Reformation  was  to  be  carried  at  all, 
it  was  necessary,  for  the  prevention  of  civil  war,  that 
it  should  be  thorough.  Therefore  the  young  genera- 
tion must  be  made  to  believe  that  a  return  of  the  old 
things  was  absolutely  impossible ;  that  the  old  relig- 
ion could  never,  under  any  circumstances,  be  revived. 
When  Queen  Mary  ascended  the  throne,  the  work 
was  only  half  done ;  the  Protestant  faith  had  not  yet 
taken  root ;  yet  when  she  died,  five  years  later,  no 
lamentations  were  made  over  the  second  departure  of 
the  priests.  It  is  a  commonplace  that  the  flames  of 
Smithfield,  more  than  the  preaching  of  Latimer,  rec- 
onciled the  people  to  the  loss  of  the  old  religion.  I 
do  not  think  that  the  commonplace  is  more  than  half 
true,  because  the  flames  were  again  kindled,  and  more 
than  once,  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  without  any  mur- 
mur from  the  people.  Henceforth  the  old  religion 
was  dead  indeed,  and  impossible  to  be  revived.  When 
Shakespeare  came  up  to  London,  he  found  many  who 
could  remember  the  monks — gray,  white,  and  black ; 
the  Franciscan— innocent  of  the  old  simplicity ;  the 
rich  and  stately  Benedictine ;  the  austere  Dominican ; 
the  pardoner  and  the  limitour;  the  mass,  and  the 
holy  days  of  the  Church ;  but  we  find  in  Shakes- 


B)  .  :S 


TUDOR  273 

peare's  writings  no  trace  of  any  regret  for  their  dis- 
appearance, or  of  any  desire  for  their  return.  The 
past  was  gone ;  even  the  poetic  side  of  a  highly  poetic 
time  was  not  touched,  or  hardly  touched,  by  the  sad- 
ness and  pathos  of  this  great  fall ;  the  dramatists  and 
poets  have  made  nothing  out  of  it. 

The  people  lived  among  the  ruins  but  regarded 
them  not,  any  more  than  the  vigorous  growth  within 
the  court  of  a  roofless  Norman  castle  regards  the  don- 
jon and  the  walls.  They  did  not  inquire  into  the 
history  of  the  ruins ;  they  did  not  want  to  preserve 
them  ;  they  took  away  the  stones  and  sold  them  for 
new  buildings. 

It  was  very  remarkable  and  very  fitting  that  on  the 
site  of  the  Grey  Friars'  House  should  be  erected  a  great 
school.  The  teaching  of  the  new  thought  was  estab- 
lished in  the  place  where  those  dwelt  who  had  been 
the  most  stalwart  defenders  of  the  old.  It  was  also 
very  remarkable  and  very  fitting  that  within  the  walls 
of  Black  Friars'  Abbey,  the  home  of  austerity  and 
authority,  should  rise  a  play-house  for  the  dramas  of 
free  thought  and  human  passion.  It  was  further  re- 
markable and  very  fitting  that  the  house  of  the  Car- 
thusian monks,  those  who  had  fled  from  the  work,  and 
war,  and  temptations  of  the  world,  those  who,  while 
yet  living,  were  already  dead,  should  be  converted 
into  a  home  for  those  who  were  broken  down  and 
spent  with  that  very  work  and  war,  a  place  where 
they  could  meditate  in  their  old  age  over  the  storm 
and  struggle  of  the  past. 

Once  arrived  at  the  second  half  of  the  sixteenth 
century  we  are  in  modern  times.  We  have  maps, 

surveys,  descriptions  of  the  city ;  we  have  literature  in 

is 


2/4  LONDON 

plenty  to  illustrate  the  manners  of  the  time.  There 
is  no  longer  any  doubt  upon  any  point.  The  daily 
life  of  London  under  Elizabeth  and  the  first  James 
may  be  learned  in  all  its  details,  by  any  one  who  will 
take  the  trouble  to  read,  as  easily  as  the  daily  life  in 
our  own  time.  Perhaps  more  easily,  because  things 
which  are  so  trivial  and  yet  mean  so  much  are  passed 
over  or  taken  for  granted  in  the  literature  of  our  day. 
But  let  no  one  be  content  with  reading  the  modern 
books  upon  the  Elizabethan  period.  They  contain  a 
great  deal,  but  the  literature  of  the  time  itself  is  a 
storehouse,  into  which  every  one  who  wishes,  however 
lightly,  to  study  the  time  should  look  for  himself. 
And  it  is  a  storehouse  so  full  that  no  man  can  hope 
to  exhaust  though  he  could  carry  out  of  it  load  upon 
load  of  treasure. 

Before  me  hangs  a  fac-simile  of  the  map  made  by 
Ralph  Agas.  "  Civitas  Londinium."  One  remarks 
first,  that  the  part  lying  south  of  Chepe  is  still  the 
most  crowded,  yet  not  so  crowded  that  there  are  no 
open  spaces.  Between  Size  Lane,  for  instance,  and 
Walbrook  is  a  great  garden.  Behind  Whittington 
College  is  a  large  open  court,  which  was  also  certainly 
a  garden.  There  are  gardens  in  Blackfriars  of  which 
the  only  remains  at  the  present  day  are  the  pretty 
little  square  called  Wardrobe  Court  and  the  tiny  gar- 
den— I  believe  there  is  still  one  other  garden  left — at 
the  back  of  the  rectory  of  St.  Andrew's.  North  of 
Chepe  the  streets  are  wider,  and  the  open  spaces  larger 
and  more  frequent.  At  Grey  Friars,  already  the  Blue- 
coat  School,  the  courts  of  the  monastery  are  yet  stand- 
ing with  the  church,  and  the  great  garden  still  stretch- 
es unto  the  city  wall ;  in  the  corner  of  the  wall,  where 


TUDOR  277 

is  now  Monkwell  Street,  with  Barber  Surgeon's  Hall, 
is  a  fine  large  garden.  On  either  side  of  Coleman 
Street  there  are  very  extensive  gardens ;  those  on  the 
west  belonged  to  the  Augustine  Friars,  the  last  rem- 
nant of  which,  the  Drapers'  Garden,  was  built  over  a 
few  years  ago  to  the  enrichment  of  the  Company  and 
the  loss  of  the  city.  Some  part  of  the  gardens  of  the 
Holy  Trinity  Priory  remain.  There  are  gardens  and 
trees  and  an  open  space  within  Aldgate ;  and  an  open 
court,  or  series  of  courts,  where  had  been  the  nunnery 
of  St.  Helen's.  Without  the  walls,  on  the  east,  East 
Smithfield  is  a  large  field,  with  paths  across.  The 
sites  of  New  Abbey  and  the  convent  of  the  Clare  Sis- 
ters are  marked  by  courts  and  gardens.  Houses  stand 
north  and  south  along  the  Whitechapel  Road,  but  not 
far;  a  single  row  of  houses  runs  along  Hound's  ditch 
from  Aldgate  to  Bishopsgate.  Without  the  latter 
there  is  a  line  of  houses  as  far  as  Shoreditch  Church, 
and  here  the  open  country  begins.  Finsbury  and 
Moorfields  are  to  a  great  extent  divided  up  into  gar- 
dens, each  with  its  house,  reminding  one  of  Stubbes's 
complaint  against  the  citizens'  wives  and  daughters, 
that  they  use  their  husbands'  gardens  outside  the 
walls  for  purposes  of  intrigue.  All  round  the  north 
and  east  of  the  city  the  people  could  step  out  of  the 
gates  into  the  country.  Except  the  houses  of  Bish- 
opsgate Without  and  the  Whitechapel  Road,  there 
was  nothing  but  fields  and  open  ground.  Around 
St.  Giles,  Cripplegate,  however,  we  find  a  suburb  al- 
ready populous.  About  Smithfield  the  houses  gather 
thickly.  We  observe  the  familiar  names  of  Little 
Britain,  Pye  Corner,  Cock  Lane,  and  Hoosier  Lane. 

Holborn,  with  gardens  on  the  north,  has  a  double  line 
18* 


2/8  LONDON 

of  houses  as  far  as  Chancery  Lane.  Where  is  now 
Blackfriars  Bridge  Road  stood  the  palace  of  Bridewell, 
with  its  two  square  courts  and  its  gabled  front  facing 
the  river.  Whitefriars  is  partly  built  upon,  but  some 
of  the  courts  and  gardens  remain.  The  lawns  of  the 
Temple,  planted  with  elms,  slope  down  to  the  river, 
and  these  were  followed  westward  by  the  palaces 
along  the  Strand — Exeter  House,  Arundel  House,  the 
Bishop  of  Llandaff's  house,  Somerset  House,  the  Sa- 
voy, Bedford  House,  Cecil  House,  Northumberland 
House,  and  the  rest,  of  which  Somerset  House  alone 
remains,  and  that  in  altered  guise.  There  are  no 
docks  as  yet.  The  lading  and  the  unlading  of  the 
ships  continued  almost  until  this  century  to  be  done 
in  the  Pool  below  London  Bridge  by  barges  and 
lighters. 

In  considering  the  people  of  London  in  the  time  of 
good  Queen  Bess  one  is  forced  to  put  the  poe.ts  and 
dramatists  first,  because  they  are  the  chief  glory  of 
this  wonderful  reign.  Yet  such  a  harvest  could  only 
spring  from  a  fruitful  soil.  Of  such  temper  as  were 
the  poets,  so  also — so  courageous,  so  hopeful,  so  con- 
fident—  were  the  inarticulate  mass  for  whom  they 
sang  and  spoke.  Behind  Kit  Marlowe,  Greene,  and 
Peele  were  the  turbulent  youth,  prodigal  of  life,  eager 
for  joy,  delighting  in  feast  and  song,  always  ready  for 
a  fight,  extravagant  in  speech  and  thought,  jubilant  in 
their  freedom  from  the  tyranny  of  the  Church.  Be- 
hind Spenser  and  Sydney  were  the  cultivated  class, 
whose  culture  has  never  been  surpassed.  Behind 
Shakespeare,  Ben  Jonson,  Massenger,  and  Beaumont, 
and  the  rest  were  the  people  of  all  conditions,  from 
Gloriana  herself  down  to  Bardolph  and  Doll.  We 


TUDOR  279 

can  only  get  at  the  people  through  those  who  write 
about  them.  Therefore  we  must  needs  say  some- 
thing about  the  Elizabethan  poets. 

Fortunately  there  are  plenty  of  them.  In  propor- 
tion to  the  population,  far,  very  far  more  than  we 
have  even  at  the  present  day,  when  every  year  the 
reviews  find  it  necessary  to  cry  out  over  the  increas- 
ing tide  of  new  books.  Of  poets,  in  what  other  age 
could  the  historian  enumerate  forty  of  the  higher  and 
nearly  two  hundred  of  the  lower  rank?  Of  the  forty, 
most  are  well  remembered  and  read  even  to  the  pres- 
ent day ;  for  instance,  Chapman,  Giles  and  Phineas 
Fletcher,  Robert  Greene,  Marston,  Sackville,  Sylvester, 
Donne,  Drayton,  Drummond,  Gascoigne,  Marlowe,  Ra- 
leigh, Spenser,  Wither,  may  be  taken  as  poets  still 
read  and  loved,  while  the  list  does  not  include  Shakes- 
peare and  the  dramatists.  Nearly  two  hundred  and 
forty  poets !  Why,  with  a  population  of  a  hundred 
millions  of  English-speaking  people  now  in  the  world, 
we  have  not  a  half  or  a  sixth  of  that  number,  while  in 
the  same  proportion  we  should  have  to  equal  in  num- 
ber the  Elizabethan  singers — about  5000.  But  in  that 
age  every  gentleman  wrote  verse ;  the  cultivation  of 
poetry  was  like  the  cultivation  of  music.  Every  man 
could  play  an  instrument ;  every  man  could  take  his 
part  in  a  glee  or  madrigal ;  so,  also,  every  man  could 
turn  his  set  of  verses,  with  the  result  of  a  fine  and 
perfect  flower  of  poetry  which  has  never  been  sur- 
passed. 

But  they  were  not  only  poets.  They  had  every 
kind  of  literature  in  far  greater  abundance,  consider- 
ing the  small  number  of  educated  people,  than  exists 
in  our  own  time,  and  in  as  great  variety.  Consider! 


280  LONDON 

There  are  now  scattered  over  the  whole  world  a  hun- 
dred millions  of  English-speaking  people,  of  whom  at 
least  five-sixths  read  something,  if  it  is  only  a  penny 
newspaper,  and  at  least  a  half  read  books  of  some 
kind.  In  Elizabeth's  reign  there  were  about  six  mill- 
ions, of  whom  more  than  half  could  not  read  at  all. 
The  reading  public  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland,  con- 
sidered with  regard  to  numbers,  resembled  what  is 
now  found  in  Holland,  Norway,  or  Denmark.  Yet 
from  so  small  a  people  came  this  mass  of  literature, 
great,  varied,  and  immortal. 

In  the  matter  of  fiction  alone  they  were  already 
'rich.  There  were  knightly  books:  the  Morte cT Arthur, 
the  .Seven  Champions,  Amadis  of  Gaul,  Godfrey  of 
Bon  illon,  JRalmerin  of  England,  and  many  more.  There 
were  story-books,  as  the  Seven  Wise  Masters,  the  Gesta 
Romanorum,  the  Amorous  Fiammetta,  the  jest  books 
of  Skogin,  Tarleton,  Hobson,  Skelton,  Peele,  and  oth- 
ers. There  was  the  famous  Euphues,  Sidney's  Ar- 
cadia, all  the  pastoral  romances,  and  the  "  picaresque  " 
novels  of  Nash  and  Dekker.  Then  there  were  the 
historians  and  chroniclers,  as  Stow,  Camden,  Speed, 
Holinshed ;  the  essayists,  as  Sir  Thomas  Browne, 
Ascham,  Bacon  ;  the  theologians,  of  whom  there  were 
hundreds ;  the  satirists,  as  Bishop  Hall  and  Marston ; 
the  writers  of  what  we  should  call  light  literature — 
Greene,  Nash,  Peele,  and  Dekker.  And  there  were 
translations,  as  from  the  Italian,  Boccaccio,  Ariosto, 
Biondello,  Tasso,  and  others  ;  from  the  French,  Frois- 
sart,  Montaigne,  Plutarch  (Amyot),  the  Cent  Nouvelles 
Nouvelles  (in  the  Hundred  Merry  Tales],  and  the  sto- 
ries of  the  Forest  and  the  Palace  of  Pleasure.  And 
there  were  all  the  dramatists.  Never  before  or  since 


TUDOR  28l 

has  the  country  been  better  supplied  with  new  litera- 
ture and  good  books. 

Remember,  again,  everything  was  new.  All  the 
books  were  new;  the  printing-press  was  new;  you 
could  almost  count  the  volumes  that  had  been  issued. 
It  was  reckoned  a  great  thing  for  Dr.  Dee  to  have 
three  thousand  printed  books.  Every  scholar  found 
a  classic  which  had  not  been  translated,  and  took  him 
in  hand.  Every  traveller  brought  home  some  modern 
writer,  chiefly  Italian,  previously  unknown.  Every 
sailor  brought  home  the  record  of  a  voyage  to  un- 
known seas  and  to  unknown  shores.  It  was  a  time 
when  the  world  had  become  suddenly  conscious  of  a 
vast,  an  inconceivable  widening,  the  results  of  which 
could  not  yet  be  foretold.  But  the  knowledge  filled 
men  with  such  hopes  as  had  never  before  been  expe- 
rienced. Scholars  and  poets,  merchants  and  sailors, 
rovers  and  adventurers,  all  alike  were  moved  by  the 
passion  and  ecstasy  of  the  time.  Strange  time  !  Won- 
derful time !  We  who  read  the  history  of  that  time  too 
often  confine  our  attention  to  the  political  history.  We 
are  able,  with  the  help  of  Froude,  quite  clearly  to  un- 
derstand the  perplexities  and  troubles  of  the  Maiden 
Queen ;  we  see  her,  in  her  anxiety,  playing  off  Span- 
iard against  Frenchman,  to  avoid  destruction  should 
they  act  together.  But  the  people  know  and  suspect 
none  of  these  things.  State  affairs  are  too  high  for 
them.  They  only  see  the  brightness  of  the  sky  and 
the  promise  of  the  day ;  they  only  feel  the  quickening 
influence  of  the  spring ;  their  blood  is  fired ;  they 
have  got  new  hopes,  a  new  faith,  new  openings,  new 
learning.  And  they  bear  themselves  accordingly. 
That  is  to  say,  with  extravagances  innumerable,  with 


282  LONDON 

confidence  and  courage  lofty,  unexampled.  Why,  it 
fires  the  blood  of  this  degenerate  time  only  to  think 
of  the  mighty  enlargement  of  that  time.  When  one 
considers  when  they  lived  and  what  they  talked,  one 
understands  Kit  Marlowe  and  Robert  Greene,  and 
that  wild  company  of  scholars  and  poets ;  they  would 
cram  into  whatever  narrow  span  of  life  was  granted 
them  all — all — all — that  life  can  give  of  learning  and 
poetry,  and  feasting  and  love  and  joy.  They  were 
intoxicated  with  the  ideas  of  their  time.  They  were 
weighed  down  with  the  sheaves — the  golden  harvest 
of  that  wondrous  reaping.  Who  would  not  live  in 
such  a  time  ?  The  little  world  had  become,  almost 
suddenly,  very  large,  inconceivably  large.  The  boys 
of  London,  playing  about  the  river  stairs  and  the 
quays,  listened  to  the  talk  of  men  who  had  sailed 
along  those  newly-discovered  coasts  of  the  new  great 
world,  and  had  seen  strange  monsters  and  wild  people. 
In  the  taverns  men — bearded,  bronzed,  scarred — grave 
men,  with  deep  eyes  and  low  voice,  who  had  sailed  to 
the  Guinea  coast,  round  the  Cape  to  Hindostan,  across 
the  Spanish  Main,  over  the  ocean  to  Virginia,  sat  in 
the  tavern  and  told  to  youths  with  flushed  cheeks  and 
panting,  eager  breath  queer  tales  of  danger  and  es- 
cape between  their  cups  of  sack.  We  were  not  yet 
advanced  beyond  believing  in  the  Ethiopian  with 
four  eyes,  the  Arimaspi  with  one  eye,  the  Hippopodes 
or  Centaurs,  the  Monopoli,  or  men  who  have  no  head, 
but  carry  their  faces  in  their  breasts  and  their  eyes  in 
their  shoulders.  None  of  these  monsters,  it  is  true, 
had  ever  been  caught  and  brought  home ;  but  many 
an  honest  fellow,  if  hard  pressed  by  his  hearers,  would 
reluctantly  confess  to  having  seen  them.  On  the 


•-•  • 

BURGH LEV    HOUSE 


TUDOR  285 

other  hand,  negroes  and  red  Indians  were  frequently 
brought  home  and  exhibited.  And  there  were  croco- 
diles, alive  or  stuffed ;  crocodiles'  skins,  the  skins  of 
bears  and  lions,  monkeys,  parrots,  flying- fish  dried, 
and  other  curious  things.  And  there  were  always  the 
legends — that  of  the  land  of  gold,  the  Eldorado  ;  that 
of  the  kingdom  of  Prester  John  ;  that  of  St.  Brandan's 
Island;  and,  but  this  was  later,  the  theory  —  proved 
with  mathematical  certainty — of  the  great  southern 
continent.  Enough,  and  more  than  enough,  to  in- 
flame the  imagination  of  adventurers,  to  drive  the 
lads  aboard  ship,  to  make  them  long  for  the  sails  to 
be  spread  and  to  be  making  their  way  anywhere — 
anywhere  —  in  search  of  adventure,  conquest,  glory, 
and  gold. 

Such  an  enlargement,  such  hopes,  can  never  again 
return  to  the  world.  That  is  impossible,  save  on  one 
chance.  We  cannot  make  the  world  any  wider ;  by 
this  time  we  know  it  nearly  all ;  the  pristine  mystery 
— the  awfulness  of  the  unknown — has  wellnigh  gone 
out  of  every  land,  even  New  Guinea  and  Central 
Africa.  Yet  there  is  this  one  chance.  Science  may 
and  will  widen  the  world — for  her  own  disciples — in 
many  new  and  unexpected  ways.  The  sluggish  imag- 
ination of  the  majority  is  little  touched  even  by  such 
marvels  as  the  electric  telegraph,  the  phonograph,  the 
telephone.  For  them  science  in  any  form  cannot  en- 
large their  boundaries.  Suppose,  however,  a  thing  to 
be  achieved  which  should  go  right  home  to  the  com- 
prehension, brain,  and  heart  of  every  living  man.  Sup- 
pose that  science  should  prevent,  conquer,  and  annihi- 
late disease.  Suppose  our  span  of  life  enlarged  to  two 
hundred,  three  hundred,  five  hundred  years,  and  that 


286  LONDON 

suddenly.  Think  of  the  wild  exaltations,  the  extrava- 
gances, the  prodigalities,  the  omnivorous  attempts  of 
the  scholar,  the  universal  grasp  of  the  physicist,  the 
amazing  and  audacious  experiments  of  chemist,  elec- 
trician, biologist,  and  the  long  reach  of  the  statesman ! 
Think  of  these  things,  I  say,  and  remember  that  in  the 
age  of  Elizabeth,  of  Raleigh,  Drake,  Marlowe,  Nash, 
Greene,  Shakespeare,  Ben  Jonson,  Spenser,  Bacon,  and 
the  rest  similar  causes  produced  similar  effects. 

We  have  seen  the  development  of  the  mediaeval 
house  from  the  simple  common  hall.  The  Elizabethan 
house  shows  an  immense  advance  in  architecture.  I 
believe  that  the  noblest  specimen  now  remaining  is 
Burghley  House  in  Northamptonshire,  built  by  Cecil, 
Lord  Burghley  and  first  Earl  of  Exeter.  The  house 
is  built  about  a  square  court.  The  west  front  has  a 
lofty  square  tower.  Let  us,  with  Burghley  House  be- 
fore us,  read  what  Bacon  directs  as  to  building.  The 
front,  he  says,  must  have  a  tower,  with  a  wing  on  either 
side.  That  on  the  right  was  to  consist  of  nothing  but 
a  "  goodly  room  of  some  forty  feet  high  " — he  does  not 
give  the  length — "  and  under  it  a  room  for  dressing  or 
preparing  place  at  times  of  triumphs."  By  triumphs 
he  means  pageants,  mummings,  and  masques.  "On 
the  other  side,  which  is  the  household  side,  I  wish  it 
divided  at  the  first  into  a  hall  and  a  chapel  (with  a 
partition  between),  both  of  good  state  and  bigness. 
And  these  not  to  go  all  the  length,  but  to  have  at  the 
further  end  a  winter  and  a  summer  parlor,  both  fair." 
Here  are  to  be  the  cellars,  kitchens,  butteries,  and 
pantries.  "  Beyond  this  front  is  to  be  a  fair  court, 
but  three  sides  of  it  of  a  far  lower  building  than  the 


TUDOR 


287 


front.  And  in  all  the  four  corners  of  the  court  fair 
staircases,  cast  into  turrets  on  the  outside,  and  not 
within  the  row  of  buildings  themselves.  .  .  .  Let  the 
court  not  be  paved,  for  that  striketh  up  a  great  heat 
in  summer  and  much  cold  in  winter.  But  only  some 


ILFORD   ALMSHOUSES 


side  alleys  with  a  cross,  and  the  quarters  to  graze 
being  kept  shorn,  but  not  too  near  shorn."  Stately  gal- 
leries with  colored  windows  are  to  run  along  the  ban- 
quet side  ;  on  the  household  side,  "  chambers  of  pres- 
ence and  ordinary  entertainments,  with  bedchambers." 
Beyond  this  court  is  to  be  a  second  of  the  same  square, 
with  a  garden  and  a  cloister.  Other  directions  he 
gives  which,  if  they  were  carried  out,  would  make  a 
very  fine  house  indeed.  But  these  we  may  pass  over. 


288  LONDON 

In  short,  Bacon's  idea  of  a  good  house  was  much  like 
a  college.  That  of  Clare,  Cambridge,  for  instance, 
would  have  been  considered  by  Bacon  as  a  very  good 
house  indeed,  though  the  arrangement  of  the  banquet- 
ing-room  was  not  exactly  as  the  philosopher  would 
have  it.  The  College  of  Christ's  in  its  old  form,  with 
the  garden  square  beyond,  was  still  more  after  the 
manner  recommended  by  Bacon. 

It  will  be  seen  that  we  are  now  a  good  way  re- 
moved from  the  Saxon  Hall  with  the  people  sleeping 
on  the  floor,  yet  Bacon's  house  lineally  descends  from 
that  beginning.  All  the  old  houses  in  London  were 
built  in  this  way,  as  may  be  illustrated  by  many 
which  retain  the  old  form,  as  well  as  by  those  which 
remain.  Hampton  Court,  for  instance,  built  by  Wol- 
sey;  Northumberland  House,  recently  taken  down; 
Gresham  House,  taken  down  a  hundred  years  ago ; 
Somerset  House,  still  standing,  though  much  altered  ; 
the  old  Navy  Office,  the  court  of  which  still  remains  ; 
some  of  the  old  almshouses,  notably  Trinity  Alms- 
house,  in  the  Whitechapel  Road  ;  Emanuel,  Westmin- 
ster; and  the  Norfolk  Hospital,  Greenwich,  Gray's 
Inn,  Clifford's  Inn,  Staple  Inn,  Barnard's  Inn — which 
contains  the  oldest  house  in  London — are  admirable 
specimens  of  Bacon's  house ;  while  in  the  old  taverns, 
of  which  a  few  imperfect  specimens  still  exist,  we 
have  the  galleries  which  Bacon  would  construct  with- 
in his  court. 

In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  while  the  merchants  were 
growing  richer  and  increasing  in  number  and  in 
wealth,  the  great  nobles  were  gradually  leaving  the 
city.  Those  who  remained  kept  up  but  a  remnant  of 
their  former  splendor.  Elizabeth  refused  license  for 


TUDOR  289 

the  immense  number  of  retainers  formerly  allowed ; 
she  would  suffer  a  hundred  at  the  most.  It  was  a 
time  rather  for  the  rise  of  new  families  than  the  con- 
tinued greatness  of  the  old.  The  nobles,  as  they  went 
away,  sold  their  London  houses  to  the  citizens.  Thus 
Winchester  House  and  Crosby  Hall  went  to  mer- 


g-LJL«s,m& 


OLD   TAVERN 


chants;  Derby  House  to  the  College  of  Heralds; 
Cold  Harbor  was  pulled  down  in  1590,  and  its  site 
built  over  with  tenements;  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's 
house,  on  the  site  of  Holy  Trinity  Priory,  was  shortly 
after  destroyed,  and  the  place  assigned  to  the  newly- 
arrived  colony  of  Jews.  Barnard's  Castle  alone  among 
the  city  palaces  remained  in  the  possession  of  a  great 
noble  until  the  fire  came  and  swept  it  away. 

Great    beyond   all  precedent  was  the   advance   of 
trade  in  this  golden   age.     Elizabeth  was  wise  and 
wisely  advised  in  the  treatment  of  the  City  and  the 
19 


290  LONDON 

merchants.  Perhaps  she  followed  the  example  of 
King  Edward  the  Fourth.  Perhaps  she  remembered 
(but  this  I  doubt)  that  she  belonged  to  the  City  by 
her  mother's  side,  for  her  great-grandfather,  Sir  Geof- 
frey Boleyn,  had  been  Lord  Mayor  a  hundred  years 
before  her  accession.  But  the  rapid  growth  of  Lon- 
don trade  seems  to  me  chiefly  due  to  the  wisdom  of 
one  man — Sir  Thomas  Gresham. 

This  great  man,  even  more  than  Whittington,  is  the 
typical  London  merchant.  Not  a  self-made  man  at 
all,  but  coming  of  a  good  old  country  stock — always 
a  master,  always  of  the  class  which  commands.  Near- 
ly all  the  great  London  merchants  have,  as  has  already 
been  stated,  belonged  to  that  class.  His  family  came 
originally  from  Gresham,  in  Norfolk ;  his  father,  Sir 
Richard,  was  Lord  Mayor;  his  uncle,  Sir  John,  also 
Lord  Mayor,  saved  Bethlehem  Hospital  at  the  disso- 
lution of  the  religious  houses.  Not  a  poor  and  friend- 
less lad,  by  any  means ;  from  the  outset  he  had  every 
advantage  that  wealth  and  station  can  afford.  He 
was  educated  at  Gonville  (afterwards  Gonville  and 
Caius)  College,  Cambridge.  It  was  not  until  he  had 
taken  his  degree  that  he  was  apprenticed  to  his  uncle, 
and  he  was  past  twenty- four  when  he  was  received 
into  the  Mercers'  Company. 

When  he  was  thirty-two  years  of  age  a  thing  hap- 
pened to  Thomas  Gresham  which  proved  to  be  the 
most  fortunate  chance  that  ever  came  to  the  City  of 
London.  He  was  appointed  Royal  Agent  at  Ant- 
werp. The  King's  loans  were  at  that  time  always  of- 
fered at  Antwerp  or  Bruges,  and  were  taken  up  by 
merchants  of  the  Low  Countries  at  the  enormous  in- 
terest of  14  per  cent.  Sometimes  a  part  of  the  ad- 


FRONT  OF  SIR   PAUL  FINDER'S  HOUSE,  ON   THE  WEST  SIDE  OF  BISHOPSGATE  STREET 

WITHOUT 


TUDOR  293 

vance  had  to  take  the  form  of  jewels.  At  this  time 
the  annual  interest  on  the  debt  amounted  to  ,£40,000 ; 
and  while  the  exchange  was  sixteen  Flemish  shillings 
to  the  pound  sterling,  the  agent  had  to  pay  in  English 
money.  The  post,  therefore,  was  not  an  easy  one  to 
fill. 

Gresham,  however,  reduced  the  interest  from  14  per 
cent,  to  12,  or  even  10  per  cent.  He  suppressed  the 
jewels,  and  took  the  whole  of  the  loan  in  money ;  and 
he  continued  to  enjoy  the  confidence  of  Edward's 
ministers,  of  Queen  Mary,  and  of  Queen  Elizabeth. 
In  order  to  effect  this,  he  must  have  been  a  most  able 
and  honest  servant,  or  else  a  most  supple  courtier. 
He  was  the  former.  Now,  had  he  done  nothing  more 
than  played  the  part  of  Royal  Agent  better  than  any 
one  who  went  before  him,  he  might  have  been  as 
much  forgotten  as  his  predecessors.  But  he  did  much 
more.  The  City  owes  to  Gresham  a  debt  of  gratitude 
impossible  to  be  repaid.  This  is  a  foolish  sentence, 
because  gratitude  can  never  be  repaid.  You  may  al- 
ways entertain  and  nourish  gratitude,  and  you  can  do 
service  in  return,  but  gratitude  remains.  A  great  ser- 
vice once  received  is  a  possession  forever,  and  gener- 
ally a  fruitful  and  growing  possession. 

When  Queen  Elizabeth  ascended  the  throne  the 
commercial  centre  of  the  world  was  Antwerp ;  when 
she  died,  the  commercial  centre  of  the  world  was 
London.  This  transfer  had  been  effected  by  the  wis- 
dom and  foresight  of  one  man  taking  advantage  of 
the  times  and  their  chances.  The  religious  wars  of 
the  Netherlands  brought  immense  losses  to  Antwerp. 
These  losses  Gresham  desired  to  make  London's  gains. 

But  he  was  met  with  the  initial  difficulty  that  the 
19* 


294  LONDON 

merchants  of  London  had  not  yet  learned  to  act  to- 
gether. They  had,  it  is  true,  the  old  trading  company 
of  merchant  adventurers,  but  that  stood  alone  ;  be- 
sides, its  ambitions  were  modest.  They  had  no  expe- 
rience in  union  ;  there  was  no  central  institution  which 
should  be  the  city's  brain,  the  place  where  the  mer- 
chants could  meet  and  receive  news  and  consult  to- 
gether. Now,  at  Antwerp  there  was  a  goodly  Bourse. 
What  if  London  could  also  have  its  Bourse? 

Well,  Gresham  built  a  Bourse ;  he  gave  it  to  the 
city ;  he  formed  this  place  of  meeting  for  the  mer- 
chants ;  the  Queen  opened  it,  and  called  it  the  Royal 
Exchange.  The  possession  of  the  Exchange  was  fol- 
lowed immediately  by  such  a  development  of  enter- 
prise as  had  been  unknown  before  in  the  history  of 
the  City.  Next  he  persuaded  the  citizens  to  take  up 
the  Queen's  loans  themselves,  so  that  the  interest,  at 
12  per  cent.,  should  remain  in  the  country.  He  showed 
his  own  people  how  to  take  advantage  of  Antwerp's 
disasters  and  to  divert  her  trade  to  the  port  of  Lon- 
don. As  for  his  Bourse,  it  stood  on  the  site  of  the 
present  Royal  Exchange,  but  the  front  was  south  in 
Cornhill.  The  west  front  was  blocked  up  by  houses. 
The  building  was  of  brick  and  mortar,  three  stories 
high,  with  dormer  windows  in  the  high-pitched  roof. 
At  eveiy  corner  was  a  pinnacle  surmounted  by  a 
grasshopper — the  Gresham  crest.  On  the  south  side 
rose  a  lofty  tower  with  a  bell,  which  called  the  mer- 
chants together  at  noon  in  the  morning  and  at  six  in 
the  evening.  Within  was  an  open  court  surrounded 
by  covered  walks,  adorned  with  statues  of  kings,  be- 
hind which  were  shops  rented  by  milliners,  haberdash- 
ers, and  sellers  of  trifles.  This  was  the  lower  pawne. 


TUDOR 


295 


Above,  in  the  upper  pawne,  there  were  armorers, 
apothecaries,  book-sellers,  goldsmiths,  and  glass-sellers. 
The  Bourse  was  opened  by  Queen  Elizabeth  on  Janu- 
ary 23,  1571.  She  changed  its  name  from  the  Bourse 
to  the  Royal  Exchange.  When  it  was  destroyed  in 
the  fire  of  1666,  it  was  observed  that  all  the  statues 
were  destroyed,  except  that  of  Gresham  himself. 


THE   ROYAL   EXCHANGE,  CORNHILL 


To  illustrate  this  increase  in  English  trade,  we  have 
these  facts  :  In  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  a  time  of 
great  decay,  there  were  few  Merchant  Adventurers 
and  hardly  any  English  ships.  When  Elizabeth  be- 
gan to  reign  there  were  no  more  than  317  merchants 
in  all,  of  whom  the  Company  of  Mercers  formed 
ninety-nine.  Before  her  reign  it  was  next  to  impossi- 


296  LONDON 

ble  for  the  city  to  raise  a  loan  of  ,£10,000.  Before 
she  died  the  city  was  advancing  to  the  Queen  loans 
of  ;£6o,ooo.  Before  her  reign  the  only  foreign  trade 
was  a  venture  or  two  into  Russia ;  everything  came 
across  from  Antwerp  and  Sluys.  During  her  reign 
the  foreign  trade  was  developed  in  an  amazing  man- 
ner. New  commodities  were  exported,  as  beer  and 
sea  coal,  a  great  many  new  things  were  introduced — 
new  trades,  new  luxuries.  For  instance,  apricots,  tur- 
keys, hops,  tobacco  were  brought  over  and  planted 
and  naturalized.  Fans,  ladies'  wigs,  fine  knives,  pins, 
needles,  earthen  fire -pots,  silk  and  crystal  buttons, 
shoe-buckles,  glass-making,  nails,  paper  were  made  in 
this  country  for  the  first  time.  The  Merchant  Advent- 
urers, who  had  been  incorporated  under  Edward  I., 
obtained  fresh  rights  and  larger  powers  ;  they  obtained 
the  abolition  of  the  privileges  enjoyed  for  three  hun- 
dred years  by  the  Hanseatic  merchant ;  they  estab- 
lished courts  at  Antwerp,  Dordrecht,  and  Hamburg; 
they  had  houses  at  York,  Hull,  and  Newcastle.  Fur- 
ther, when  we  read  that  they  exported  wine,  oil,  silks, 
and  fruits,  in  addition  to  the  products  of  the  country, 
it  is  clear  that  they  had  already  obtained  some  of  the 
carrying  trade  of  the  world.  Of  the  trading  compa- 
nies founded  under  Elizabeth  and  her  successors,  only 
one  now  survives.  Yet  the  whole  trade  of  this  coun- 
try was  created  by  these  companies. 

Who,  for  instance,  now  remembers  the  Eastland 
Company,  or  Merchants  of  Elbing?  Yet  they  had  a 
long  existence  as  a  company ;  and  long  after  their 
commercial  life  was  gone  they  used  to  elect  their  offi- 
cers every  year,  and  hold  a  feast.  Perhaps  they  do 
still.  Their  trade  was  with  the  Baltic.  Or  the  Rus- 


TUDOR  297 

sian  Company  ?  That  sprang  out  of  a  company  called 
the  "  Merchant  Adventurers  for  the  Discovery  of 
Lands  not  before  known  to  or  frequented  by  the 
English." 

This  company  sent  out  Sir  Hugh  Willoughby,  with 
three  ships,  to  find  a  north-east  passage  to  China. 
But  Sir  Hugh  was  forced  to  put  in  at  a  port  in  Rus- 
sian Lapland,  where  he  and  all  his  men  were  frozen 
to  death.  The  Russion  Company  became  whalers, 
and  quarrelled  with  the  Dutch  over  the  fishing.  It 
had  a  checkered  career,  and  finally  died,  but,  like  the 
Eastland  Company,  it  continued  to  elect  officers  and 
to  dine  together  long  after  its  work  was  over.  Or  the 
Turkey  Company,  which  lasted  from  1586  to  1825, 
when  it  dissolved  ?  Or  the  Royal  African  Company, 
which  lived  from  1530  to  1821  ?  There  were,  also, 
the  Merchants  of  Spain;  the  French  Merchants;  the 
Merchants  of  Virginia ;  the  East  India  Company,  the 
greatest  and  most  powerful  of  any  trading  company 
ever  formed  ;  the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  which  still 
exists  ;  the  South  Sea  Company  ;  the  Guinea  Compa- 
ny ;  the  Canary  Company.  Some  of  these  belong  to 
a  later  period,  but  they  speak  of  the  spirit  of  the  en- 
terprise and  adventure  first  awakened  under  Elizabeth. 

In  the  Church  of  St.  Martin  Outwich,  now  pulled 
down,  was  a  monument  to  the  chief  actor  in  the  pro- 
motion of  these  trading  companies.  "  Here,"  said 
the  tombstone,  "  resteth  the  body  of  the  worshipful 
Mr.  Richard  Staple,  elected  Alderman  of  this  city 
1584.  He  was  the  greatest  Merchant  in  his  time;  the 
chiefest  Actor  in  the  Discovery  of  the  Trade  of  Tur- 
key and  East  India;  a  man  humble  in  prosperity, 
painful  and  ever  ready  in  affairs  public,  and  discreetly 


298  LONDON 

careful  of  his  private.  A  liberal  house-keeper,  bounti- 
ful to  the  Poor,  an  upright  dealer  in  the  world,  and  a 
devout  inquirer  after  the  world  to  come.  .  .  .  Intravit 
ut'  exiret" 

The  increase  of  trade  had  another  side.  It  was  ac- 
companied by  protection,  with  the  usual  results.  "  In 
the  old  days,"  says  Harrison,  "  when  strange  bottoms 
were  suffered  to  come  in,  we  had  sugar  for  fourpence 
the  pound  that  now  is  worth  half  a  crown ;  raisins 
and  currants  for  a  pennie  that  now  are  holden  at  six- 
pence, and  sometimes  at  eightpence  and  tenpence,  the 
pound ;  nutmegs  at  twopence  halfpenny  the  ounce ; 
ginger  at  a  pennie  the  ounce ;  prunes  at  a  halfpenny 
farthing ;  great  raisins,  three  pound  for  a  pennie  ;  cin- 
namon at  fourpence  the  ounce ;  cloves  at  twopence ; 
and  pepper  at  twelve  or  sixteen  pence  the  pound." 
He  does  not  state  the  increase  in  price  of  the  latter 
articles ;  but  if  we  are  to  judge  by  that  of  sugar,  the 
increase  of  trade  was  not  an  unmixed  blessing  to 
those  whose  incomes  had  not  advanced  with  equal 
step. 

The  city  associated  the  new  prosperity  with  their 
Maiden  Queen,  for  whom  their  love  and  loyalty  never 
abated  in  the  least.  When  she  asked  them  for  a  cer- 
tain number  of  ships  they  sent  double  the  number, 
fully  manned  and  provided  ;  when  the  Queen's  enemy, 
Mary  of  Scotland,  was  beheaded,  they  rang  their  bells 
and  made  bonfires ;  while  the  Queen  was  living  they 
thanked  God  solemnly  for  her  long  reign ;  when  she 
died,  their  lamentations  were  loud  and  sincere ;  her 
monument,  until  the  fire,  adorned  many  of  the  city 
churches.  One  of  the  Elizabeth  statues  yet  remains 
outside  the  Church  of  St.  Dunstan's,  Fleet  Street.  It 


TUDOR  301 

is  the  statue  which  formerly  stood  on  the  west  side 
of  Lud  Gate. 

To  return  to  Gresham.  He  not  only  gave  the  city 
a  Bourse,  but  he  also  endowed  it  with  a  college,  which 
should  have  been  a  rival  of  Trinity  or  Christ  Church 
but  for  the  mismanagement  which  reduced  it  for  a 
lonsr  time  to  the  level  of  a  lecture  institute.  The  idea 

o 

of  the  founder  will,  no  doubt,  be  revived  some  time 
or  other,  and  Gresham  College  will  become  a  place  of 
learning  worthy  of  the  city. 

The  career  of  Sir  Thomas  Gresham  strangely  re- 
sembles that  of  Whittington.  Both  were  favorites 
with  successive  sovereigns.  If  Gresham  built  an  Ex- 
change, Whittington,  by  his  will,  added  to  Guildhall ; 
if  Gresham  founded  a  college  for  the  London  youth, 
Whittington  founded  a  college  for  priests,  and  an 
almshouse ;  if  Gresham  restored  the  finances  of  his 
sovereign,  Whittington  gave  back  to  his  the  bonds  of 
all  his  debts.  Both  were  mercers ;  both  merchant  ad- 
venturers ;  both  kept  a  shop ;  both  were  of  good  de- 
scent. 

Gresham's  shop  was  in  Lombard  Street,  at  the  Sign 
of  the  Grasshopper,  his  family  crest.  His  shop  con- 
tained gold  and  silver  vessels ;  coins,  ancient  and 
modern ;  gold  chains,  gold  and  silver  lace,  rings,  and 
jewels.  He  lent  money,  as  most  bankers  do,  on  se- 
curity, but  he  got  10  and  12  per  cent,  for  it.  He  had 
correspondents  abroad,  and  he  gave  travellers  letters 
of  credit ;  he  bought  foreign  coin  either  to  exchange 
or  to  melt  down.  And  he  lived  in  his  own  house, 
over  his  shop,  until  he  was  knighted,  when  he  built  a 
new  house  between  Bishopsgate  Street  and  Broad 
Street.  Stow  calls  it  "  the  most  spacious  of  all  there- 


!  R  BIEB  Bllll  •!! 


COLLEGII   GRESHAMENSIS   A    LATERE   OCCIDENTALI    PROSPECTUS,  A.D.    1739 

about ;  builded  of  brick  and  timber."     This  house  be- 
came afterwards  Gresham  College. 

Again,  this  was  a  great  age  for  the  foundation  of 
grammar-schools.  The  education  of  London  in  the 
Middle  Ages  is  a  subject  which  has  never  yet  been 
adequately  treated.  We  know  very  well  what  was 
taught  at  the  universities.  But  what  did  the  merchant 
learn,  the  shopkeeper,  the  craftsman  ?  To  what  school 
was  the  boy  sent  before  he  was  apprenticed  ?  There 
was  a  school,  it  is  said,  to  every  religious  house.  I 
think  that  latterly  the  monastic  school  was  kept  up 
with  about  as  much  sincerity  as  the  monastic  rule  of 
poverty.  Stow  certainly  says  that  when  Henry  V. 
dissolved  the  alien  priories,  their  schools  perished  as 


TUDOR  303 

well.  On  the  other  hand,  consider  the  great  number 
of  religious  houses  in  and  around  London.  There 
should  have  been  schools  enough  for  the  whole  popu- 
lation. Yet  Henry  VI.  founded  four  grammar-schools 
"  besides  St.  Paul's,"  viz.,  at  St.  Martin's  le  Grand, 
St.  Mary  le  Bow,  St.  Dunstan's  in  the  west,  and  St. 
Anthony's.  Why  did  he  do  this  if  there  were  already 
plenty  of  schools  ?  And  observe  that  one  of  his  foun- 
dations was  at  a  religious  house — St.  Martin's.  The 
year  after  he  created  four  more  schools — at  St.  An- 
thony's (Holborn),  All  Hallows  the  Great,  St.  Peter's 
(Cornhill),  and  St.  Thomas  of  Aeon.  All  these  schools 
perished  in  the  Reformation,  with  the  exception  of 
St.  Paul's  and  St.  Anthony's.  Why  they  perished, 
unless  they  were  endowed  with  property  belonging  to 
some  monastic  house,  is  not  clear. 

For  a  time  the  city  had  no  schools,  no  hospitals,  no 
foundations  for  the  poor,  the  sick,  or  the  aged.  These 
grievous  losses  were  speedily  amended.  St.  Paul's 
was  presently  newly  founded  by  Dean  Colet.  The 
Blue-Coat  School  arose  on  the  ruins  of  the  Grey  Fri- 
ars. The  Mercers'  Company  continued  the  School  of 
St.  Thomas  as  their  own,  and  it  still  exists.  The  Mer- 
chant Taylors  founded  their  school,  which  is  now  at 
the  Charterhouse.  At  St.  Olave's  and  St.  Saviour's 
schools  were  established.  A  few  years  later  was 
founded  the  Charterhouse  School,  which  is  now  re- 
moved to  Godalming. 

In  these  narrow  limits  it  is  impossible  to  reproduce 
much  of  the  Elizabethan  daily  life.  Here,  however, 
are  certain  details. 

The  ordering  of  the  household  was  strict.  Servants 
and  apprentices  were  up  at  six  in  the  summer  and  at 


304  LONDON 

seven  in  the  winter.  No  one,  on  any  pretence,  except 
that  of  illness,  was  to  absent  himself  from  morning 
and  evening  prayers ;  there  was  to  be  no  striking,  no 
profane  language.  Sunday  was  clean-shirt  day.  Din- 
ner was  at  eleven,  supper  at  six.  There  was  no  pub- 
lic or  private  office  which  was  not  provided  with  a 
Bible.  In  the  better  classes  there  was  a  general  en- 
thusiasm for  learning  of  all  kinds.  The  ladies,  imitat- 
ing the  example  of  the  Queen,  practised  embroidery, 
wrote  beautifully,  played  curious  instruments,  knew 
how  to  sing  in  parts,  dressed  with  as  much  magnifi- 
cence as  they  could  afford,  danced  corantoes  and  la- 
voltas  as  well  as  the  simple  hey,  and  studied  languages 
— Latin,  Greek,  and  Italian.  The  last  was  the  favor- 
ite language.  Many  collected  books.  Dr.  John  Dee 
had  as  many  as  four  thousand,  of  which  one  thousand 
were  manuscripts.  They  were  arranged  on  the  shelves 
with  the  leaves  turned  outward,  not  the  backs.  This 
was  to  show  the  gilding,  the  gold  clasps,  and  the  silk- 
en strings.  The  books  were  bound  with  great  care 
and  cost ;  everybody  knows  the  beauty  of  the  type 
used  in  the  printing. 

Tournaments  were  maintained  until  the  end  of 
Elizabeth's  reign.  But  we  hear  little  of  them,  and  it 
is  not  likely  that  they  retained  much  of  their  old  pop- 
ularity. One  Sir  Henry  Lee  entered  the  tilt-yard 
every  year  until  age  prevented  him.  They  always 
kept  up  the  sport  of  tilting  at  the  Quintain  in  the 
water.  But  their  favorite  amusements  were  the  pag- 
eant and  the  play.  The  pageant  came  before  the 
play ;  and  while  the  latter  was  performed  on  a  rough 
scaffold  in  an  inn-yard,  the  former  was  provided  with 
splendid  dresses,  music,  songs,  and  properties  of  every 


TUDOR 


305 


kind.  There  were  pageants  for  the  reception  of  the 
King  when  he  made  a  procession  into  the  City ;  there 
were  court  pageants ;  there  were  private  pageants  in 
great  men's  houses  ;  there  were  pageants  got  up  by 
companies.  The  reception  pageants,  for  instance,  are 
very  well  illustrated  by  that  invented  for  Queen  Eliz- 
abeth on  her  visit  to  the  city  in  the  year  1558. 

It  was  in  January,  but  I  think  people  felt  cold 
weather  less  in  those  days.  The  Queen  came  by  wa- 
ter, attended  by  the  city  barges,  which  were  trimmed 
with  targets  and  banners  of  their  mysteries,  from 
Westminster  to  the  Tower,  where  she  lay  for  two 
days.  She  then  rode  through  the  City,  starting  at 
two  in  the  afternoon,  when  everybody  had  had  dinner. 

In  Fenchurch  Street  there 
was  a  scaffold,  where  was  a 
band  of  music,  and  a  child 
who  presented  the  Queen 
with  a  poetical  address. 

At  the  upper  end  of  Grace- 
church  Street  a  noble  arch 
had  been  erected,  with  a 
triple  stage.  On  the  lowest 
stood  two  children,  repre- 
senting Henry  VII.  and  Eliz- 
abeth of  York ;  on  the  sec- 
ond, two  more,  for  Henry 
VIII.  and  Anne  Boleyn ; 
and  on  the  third,  Queen 
Elizabeth  herself.  Music 
and  a  poetical  address. 

At  Cornhill  there  was  another  pageant,  representing 
the  Queen  placed  on  a  seat  supported  by  four  figures, 

20 


CURIOUS    PUMP 


306  LONDON 

viz.,  Religion,  Wisdom,  Justice,  and  Love,  each  of 
which  was  treading  under  foot  the  opposite  vice. 
Music  and  a  poetical  address. 

At  the  entrance  of  Cheapside  a  third  pageant  rep- 
resented the  eight  beatitudes. 

At  the  Conduit  a  fourth  pageant  displayed  two 
mountains ;  one,  ragged  and  stony,  with  a  withered 
tree,  under  which  sat  one  in  homely  garb ;  over  her 
head  was  a  tablet  with  the  legend,  "  Respublica  rui- 
nosa."  The  other  hill  was  fair  and  green,  with  a  flour- 
ishing tree,  and  the  words,  "  Respublica  bene  insti- 
tuta."  Between  the  hills  was  a  cave,  out  of  which 
issued  Time,  with  his  wings,  scythe,  and  forelock 
quite  complete,  leading  a  maiden  in  white  silk,  on 
whose  head  was  written  Temporis  Filia,  and  on  her 
breast  Veritas.  This  fair  damsel  held  a  Bible  in  her 
hand,  which  she  let  down  by  a  silken  thread  to  the 
Queen. 

At  the  Conduit  in  Fleet  Street  they  had  erected  a 
stage  with  four  towers,  on  which  was  a  throne  under 
a  palm-tree.  On  the  throne  sat  Deborah,  "  Judge  and 
Restorer  of  the  House  of  Israel."  On  the  steps  of 
the  throne  stood  six  personages,  two  of  them  repre- 
senting the  nobility,  two  the  clergy,  and  two  the  com- 
mons. At  Temple  Bar  they  had  two  giants,  Gogma- 
gog  and  Albion,  and'  Corineus,  the  Briton.  On  the 
south  side  was  a  "  noise  "  of  singing  children,  one  of 
whom,  attired  as  a  poet,  bade  the  Queen  farewell  in 
the  name  of  the  City. 

The  court  pageants  may  be  understood  by  reading 
the  masques  of  Ben  Jonson.  Everything  costly, 
splendid,  and  precious  was  lavished  upon  these  shows. 
Everything  that  machinery  could  contrive  was  de- 


TUDOR  307 

vised  for  them.  Ben  Jonson  himself,  speaking  of  the 
performance  of  his  "  Hymenaea,"  says :  "  Such  was 
the  exquisite  performance,  as,  besides  the  pomp, 
splendor,  or  what  we  may  call  apparelling  of  such  pre- 
sentments, that  alone,  had  all  else  been  absent,  was  of 
power  to  surprise  with  delight,  and  steal  away  the 
spectators  from  themselves.  Nor  was  there  wanting 
whatsoever  might  give  to  the  furniture  or  complement, 
either  in  riches,  or  strangeness  of  the  habits,  delicacy 
of  dances,  magnificence  of  the  scene,  or  divine  rapture 
of  musick.  Only  the  envy  was  that  it  lasted  not  still." 

It  was  not  until  1570  that  the  first  theatre  was  built. 
The  popularity  of  the  play  had  already  begun  to  grow 
with  amazing  rapidity.  In  twenty  years  there  were 
five  theatres,  with  performances  every  day.  The 
Queen  had  four  companies  of  children  trained  to  per- 
form, viz.,  the  children  of  St.  Paul's,  the  children  of 
the  chapel,  the  children  of  Westminster,  and  the  chil- 
dren of  Windsor.  The  public  actors,  too,  were  often 
called  upon  to  perform  before  the  Queen. 

These  companies  were  :  Lord  Leicester's  company, 
Sir  Robert  Lane's,  Lord  Clinton's,  Lord  Warwick's, 
the  Lord  Chamberlain's,  the  Earl  of  Sussex's,  Lord 
Howard's,  the  Earl  of  Essex's,  Lord  Strange's,  the 
Earl  of  Derby's,  the  Lord  Admiral's,  the  Earl  of 
Hertford's,  and  Lord  Pembroke's.  It  is  not  supposed 
that  all  these  companies  existed  at  the  same  time ; 
but  the  list  shows  how  company  after  company  was 
begun  and  maintained  on  the  credit  of  some  great 
lord. 

The  theatres  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century 
were  seven  in  number — the  Globe,  at  Bankside ;  the 
Red  Bull,  in  St.  John  Street;  the  Curtain,  in  Shore- 


308  LONDON 

ditch  ;  the  Fortune,  in  Whitecross  Street.  These  four 
were  public  theatres.  The  other  three  were  called 
private  houses — the  Blackfriars,  the  Whitefriars,  and 
the  Cockpit  or  Phcenix  Theatre.  In  the  next  chapter 
we  shall  assist  at  a  matinee  of  one  of  Shakespeare's 
plays. 

But  the  people  lost  no  opportunity  of  "  making  up," 
acting,  and  dancing.  The  pageant  became  more  and 
more  a  play.  There  were  pageants  of  more  or  less 
splendor — we  all  know  the  great  pageants  of  Kenil- 
worth  —  held  in  every  great  man's  house,  in  every 
company's  hall,  and  in  private  persons'  houses,  to 
mark  every  possible  occasion.  Thus,  in  the  year  1562, 
on  July  20,  took  place  the  marriage  of  one  Coke,  citi- 
zen (but  of  what  company  I  know  not)  —  was  he  a 
cousin  of  Edward  Coke,  afterwards  Speaker? — with 
the  daughter  of  Mr.  Nicolls,  master  of  London  Bridge. 
My  Lord  Mayor  and  all  the  Aldermen,  with  many 
ladies  and  other  worshipful  men  and  women,  were 
present  at  the  wedding.  Mr.  Bacon,  an  eminent  di- 
vine, preached  the  wedding  sermon.  After  the  dis- 
course the  company  went  home  to  the  Bridge  House 
to  dinner,  where  was  as  good  cheer  as  ever  was  known 
— Stow  says  so,  and  he  knew  very  well — with  all  man- 
ner of  music  and  dancing,  and  at  night  a  masque  till 
midnight.  But  this  was  only  half  the  feast,  for  next 
day  the  wedding  was  again  kept  at  the  Bridge  House 
with  great  cheer.  After  supper  more  mumming,  after 
that  more  masques.  One  was  in  cloth  of  gold,  the 
next  consisted  of  friars,  and  the  third  of  nuns.  First 
the  friars  and  the  nuns  danced  separately,  one  com- 
pany after  the  other,  and  then  they  danced  together. 
Considering  that  it  was  only  two  years  since  the  friars 


TUDOR  309 

and  the  nuns  had  been  finally  suppressed,  there  must 
have  been  a  certain  piquancy  in  this  dance.  It  is  al- 
ways, at  such  times,  put  on  the  stage.  One  of  th| 
first  things,  for  instance,  done  in  Madrid  when  Spain 
got  her  short-lived  republic  was  that  in  every  cafe 
chantant  they  put  a  friar  and  a  nun  on  the  stage  to 
dance  and  sing  together. 

They  still  kept  the  saint's  day  of  their  company ;  in 
fact,  when  the  old  faith  was  suppressed  the  people 
willingly  endured  a  change  of  doctrine  so  long  as  they 
were  not  called  upon  to  give  up  their  feasting,  which 
was  exactly  what  had  happened  in  Italy  and  elsewhere 
when  the  people  were  induced  or  forced  to  become 
Christians. ^They  made  no  objection  to  doctrine,  pro- 
vided their' practice  was  not  interfered  with.  There- 
fore the  Protestant  citizens  kept  up  their  Whitsun 
ales,  their  wakes,  their  Easter  and  Christmas  feastings. 
All  the  saints'  days  which  brought  something  better 
than  ordinary  to  eat,  with  morris  dances,  May-poles, 
bonfires,  music,  and  Feasts  of  Misrule  were  religiously 
conserved.  As  to  the  Feast  of  Misrule,  hear  the  tes- 
timony of  the  contemporary  moralist : 

"  Thus  all  things  set  in  order,  then  have  they  their 
hobby-horses,  their  dragons,  and  other  antiques,  to- 
gether with  their  pipers  and  thundering  drummers,  to 
strike  up  the  Devil's  Dance.  Thus  march  this  merry 
company  towards  the  church  and  church-yard,  their 
pipers  piping,  their  drummers  thundering,  their  stumpes 
dancing,  their  bells  jingling,  their  handkerchiefs  flut- 
tering about  their  heads  like  madmen,  their  hobby- 
horses and  other  monsters  skirmishing  among  the 
throng,  and  in  this  sort  they  go  to  the  church  like 
devils  incarnate,  with  such  a  confused  noise  that  no 


310  LONDON 

man  can  hear  his  own  voice.  Then  the  foolish  people 
—they  look,  they  stare,  they  laugh,  they  cheer,  they 
mount  upon  forms  and  pews  to  see  the  goodly  pag- 
eants solemnized  in  this  sort.  Then,  after  this,  about 
the  church  they  go  again  and  again,  and  so  forth  into 
the  church -yard,  where  they  have  commonly  their 
summer  halls,  their  bowers,  arbors,  and  banqueting- 
houses  set  up,  wherein  they  feast,  banquet,  and  dance 
all  that  day,  and,  peradventure,  all  that  night  too." 

To  keep  a  troop  of  servants  has  always  been  a  mark 
of  state.  Ladies  used  to  beat  their  servants — follow- 
ing the  example  of  the  Queen,  who  sometimes  boxed 
the  ears  of  her  courtiers.  Everybody  of  position  trav- 
elled, and  nearly  everybody  went  to  Italy,  with  results 
disastrous  to  religion  and  to  morals.  One  of  the 
worst  figures  in  the  Elizabethan  gallery  is  the  English- 
man Italianized.  Of  course  on  his  return  the  travel- 
ler gave  himself  strange  airs.  How  they  travelled 
and  what  they  saw  may  be  read  in  that  most  charm- 
ing book,  the  Epistolce  Hoelliancs. 

Card-playing  and  gaming  were  the  commonest  form 
of  amusement.  The  games  were  primero,  which  Fal- 
staff  foreswore,  trump,  gleek,  gresco,  new  cut,  knave 
out-of-doors,  ruff,  noddy,  post  and  pace — all  of  these 
games  corresponding,  no  doubt,  to  those  still  played. 

Another  favorite  amusement  was  dancing  in  all  its 
various  forms,  from  the  stately  court  dance  to  the 
merry  circle  on  the  village  green.  The  principal 
dances  were  the  solemn  pavane,  the  brawl,  the  Passa- 
mezzo  galliard,  the  Canary  dance,  the  coranto,  the  la- 
volt  a,  the  jig,  the  galliard,  the  fancy,  and  the  hey. 

Gentlemen  were  followed  in  the  streets  by  their 
servants,  who  carried  their  master's  sword.  Their 


TUDOR  311 

dress  was  blue,  with  the  master's  badge  in  silver  on 
the  left  arm. 

The  pages  of  Stow,  Harrison,  Hall,  Greene,  and 
Nash  contain  not  only  glimpses,  but  also  set  pictures 
of  the  time,  from  which  extracts  by  the  hundred 
might  be  made.  There  are  the  awful  examples,  for 
instance,  of  Sir  John  Champneys,  Alderman  and  Lord 
Mayor,  and  Richard  Wethell,  citizen  and  tailor.  Both 
these  persons  built  high  towers  to  their  houses  to 
show  their  pride  and  to  look  down  upon  their  neigh- 
bors— one  is  reminded  of  the  huge  leaning  towers  in 
Bologna.  What  happened  ?  The  first  went  blind,  so 
that  though  he  might  climb  his  tower  he  could  see 
nothing.  The  second  was  afflicted  with  gout  in  hands 
and  feet,  so  that  he  could  not  walk,  much  less  climb 
his  tower.  Stubbes  has  other  instances  of  judgments, 
particularly  the  terrible  fate  of  the  girl  who  invoked 
the  devil  to  help  her  with  her  ruff. 

Here  is  a  curious  little  story.  It  happened  in  the 
reign  of  King  James.  One  day,  in  Bishopsgate  Ward, 
a  poor  man,  named  Richard  Atkinson,  going  to  re- 
move a  heap  of  sea-coal  ashes  in  his  wheelbarrow,  dis- 
covered lying  in  the  ashes  the  body  of  a  newly-born 
child.  It  was  still  breathing,  and  he  carried  it  to  his 
wife,  who  washed  and  fed  it  and  restored  it  to  life. 
The  child  was  a  goodly  and  well-formed  boy,  strong 
and  well-featured,  without  blemish  or  harm  upon  it. 
They  christened  the  child  at  St.  Helen's  Church,  by  a 
name  which  should  cause  him  to  remember,  all  through 
his  life,  his  very  remarkable  origin.  They  called  him, 
in  fact,  Job  Cinere  Extractus.  A  noble  name,  for  the 
sake  of  which  alone  he  should  have  lived.  What  an 
ancestor  to  have  had  !  How  delightful  to  be  a  Cinere 


312  LONDON 

Extractus !  Who  would  not  wish  to  belong  to  such  a 
family,  and  to  point  to  the  ash-heap  as  the  origin  of 
the  first  Cinere  Extractus?  Nothing  like  it  in  history 
since  the  creation  of  Adam  himself.  What  a  coat  of 
arms !  A  shield  azure,  an  ash-heap  proper,  with  sup- 
porters of  two  dustmen  with  shovels ;  crest  a  sieve  ; 
motto,  like  that  of  the  Courtenay?,  "  from  what  heights 
descended?"  But  alas!  poor  little  Job  Cinere  Ex- 
tractus died  three  days  afterwards,  and  now  lies  buried 
in  St.  Helen's  church-yard,  without  even  a  monument. 
Another  baby  story — but  this  belongs  to  Charles  I.'s 
time — it  happened,  in  fact,  in  the  last  month  of  that 
melancholy  reign.  It  was  seven  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing. A  certain  ship-chandler  became  suddenly  so 
foolish  as  to  busy  himself  over  a  barrel  of  gunpowder 
with  a  candle.  Naturally  a  spark  fell  into  the  barrel, 
and  he  was  not  even  left  time  enough  to  express  his 
regrets.  Fifty  houses  were  wrecked.  How  many 
were  killed  no  one  could  tell,  but  at  the  next  house 
but  one,  the  Rose  Tavern,  there  was  a  great  company 
holding  the  parish  dinner,  and  they  all  perished.  Next 
morning,  however,  there  was  found  on  the  leads  of 
All  Hallows  Barking  a  young  child  in  a  cradle  as 
newly  laid  in  bed,  neither  child  nor  cradle  having  sus- 
tained the  least  harm.  It  was  never  known  who  the 
child  was,  but  she  was  adopted  by  a  gentleman  of  the 
parish,  and  lived  certainly  to  the  age  of  seventeen, 
when  the  historian  saw  her  going  to  call  her  master, 
who  was  drinking  at  a  tavern.  It  is  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ago.  That  young  woman  may  have  at  this 
moment  over  a  thousand  descendants  at  least.  Who 
would  not  like  to  boast  that  she  was  his  great-grand- 
mother? 


TUDOR  313 

A  reform  of  vast  importance,  though  at  first  it 
seems  a  small  thing,  was  introduced  in  this  reign.  It 
was  the  restoration  of  vegetables  and  roots  as  part  of 
daily  diet.  Harrison  is  my  authority.  He  says  that 
in  old  days — as  in  the  time  of  the  First  Edward — 
herbs,  fruits,  and  roots  were  much  used,  but  that  from 
Henry  IV.  to  Henry  VIII.  the  use  of  them  decayed 
and  was  forgotten.  "  Now,"  he  says,  "  in  my  time 
their  use  is  not  only  resumed  among  the  poore  com- 
mons—  I  mean  of  melons,  pompines,  gourds,  cucum- 
bers, radishes,  skirrets,  parsneps,  carrots,  marrowes, 
turnips,  and  all  kinds  of  salad  herbes  —  but  they  are 
also  looked  upon  as  deintie  dishes  at  the  tables  of 
delicate  merchants,  gentlemen,  and  the  nobilitie,  who 
make  their  provision  yearly  for  new  seeds  out  of 
strange  countries  from  whence  they  have  them  abun- 
dantly." 

Perhaps  the  cause  of  the  disuse  of  roots  and  vege- 
tables was  the  enormous  rise  in  wages  after  the  Black 
Death,  when  the  working-classes,  becoming  suddenly 
rich,  naturally  associated  roots  with  scarcity  of  beef, 
and  governed  themselves  accordingly. 

The  use  of  tobacco  spread  as  rapidly,  when  once  it 
was  introduced,  as  that  of  coffee  later  on.  King  James 
speaks  of  those  who  spend  as  much  as  £300  a  year 
upon  this  noxious  weed.  Those  who  took  tobacco 
attributed  to  it  all  the  virtues  possible  for  any  plant 
to  possess,  and  more. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  better  sort  of  citizens  to 
have  gardens  outside  the  City,  each  with  its  own  gar- 
den-house, in  some  cases  a  mere  arbor,  but  in  others 
a  house  for  residence  in  the  summer  months.  Moor- 
fields  had  many  of  these  gardens,  but  Bethnal  Green, 


314  LONDON 

Hoxton  (Hoggesden),  and  Mile  End  were  favorite 
spots  for  these  retreats.  Of  course,  the  city  madams 
were  accused  of  using  these  gardens  as  convenient 
places  for  intrigue. 

The  education  of  girls  was  never  so  thorough  as  at 
this  time.  Perhaps  Lucy  Hutchinson  and  Lady  Jane 
Grey — well-known  cases — ought  not  to  be  taken  as 
average  examples.  The  former,  for  instance,  could 
read  at  four,  and  at  seven  was  under  eight  tutors,  who 
taught  her  languages,  music,  dancing,  writing,  and 
needle-work.  She  also  became  a  proficient  in  the  art 
of  preparing  simples  and  medicines.  Of  her  husband 
she  says  that  he  was  a  masterly  player  on  the  viol ; 
that  he  was  a  good  marksman  with  gun  and  bow ;  and 
that  he  was  a  collector  of  paintings  and  engravings. 
Perhaps  there  was  never  a  time  when  body  and  mind 
were  equally  trained  and  developed  as  they  were  in 
the  sixteenth  century.  Think  with  what  contempt 
Sidney  and  Raleigh  would  regard  an  age  like  the  pres- 
ent, when  the  young  men  are  trained  to  foot-ball,  run- 
ning, and  cricket,  but,  for  the  most  part,  cannot  ride, 
cannot  shoot,  cannot  fence,  cannot  box,  cannot  wres- 
tle, cannot  sing,  cannot  play  any  instrument,  cannot 
dance,  and  cannot  make  verses ! 

In  the  matter  of  rogues,  vagabonds,  and  common 
cheats,  the  age  of  Elizabeth  shows  no  falling  off,  but 
quite  the  reverse.  We  have  little  precise  information 
on  English  ribauderie  before  this  time,  but  now,  thanks 
to  John  Awdely,  Thomas  Harman,  Parson  Hybesdrine, 
Thomas  Dekker,  Robert  Greene,  and  others,  we  learn 
the  whole  art  and  mystery  of  coney-catching  as  prac- 
tised under  the  Tudor  dynasty.  The  rogues  had  their 
own  language.  No  doubt  they  always  had  their  Ian- 


TUDOR 


315 


guage,  as  they  have  it  now ;  and  it  varied  from  year 
to  year  as  it  varies  now,  but  the  groundwork  remained 
the  same,  and,  indeed,  remains  the  same  to  this  day. 
The  rogues  and  thieves,  the  beggars  and  the  impos- 
tors, are  still  with  us.  They  are  still  accompanied  by 
their  autem  morts,  their 
walking  morts,  their  Kyn- 
chen  morts,  their  dox- 
ies, and  their  dolls,  only 
some  of  those  cheats  are 
changed  with  the  changes 
of  the  time.  Under  Queen 
Gloriana  they  abound  in 
every  town  and  in  every 
street,  they  tramp  along 
all  the  roads,  they  haunt 
the  farm-houses,  they  rob 
the  market-women  and 

,  I  i    i  T-t  1  NEWGATE 

the  old  men.  They  have 
their  ranks  and  their  pre- 
cedency. The  Upright  man  is  a  captain  among  them; 
the  Curtail  has  authority  over  them  ;  the  Patriarch  Co- 
marries  them  until  death  do  them  part — that  is  to  say, 
until  they  pass  a  carcass  of  any  creature,  when,  if  they 
choose,  they  shake  hands  and  go  separate  ways.  They 
are  well  known  by  profession  and  name  at  every  fair 
throughout  the  country.  They  are  Great  John  Gray 
and  Little  John  Gray;  John  Stradling  with  the  shak- 
ing head  ;  Lawrence  with  the  great  leg  ;  Henry  Smyth, 
who  drawls  when  he  speaks;  that  fine  old  gentleman, 
Richard  Horwood,  who  is  eighty  years  of  age  and  can 
still  bite  a  sixpenny  nail  asunder  with  his  teeth,  and  a 
notable  toper  still ;  Will  Pellet,  who  carries  the  Kyn- 


316  LONDON 

chen  mort  at  his  back;  John  Browne,  the  stammerer; 
and  the  rest  of  them.  They  are  all  known ;  their 
backs  and  shoulders  are  scored  with  the  nine- tailed 
cat ;  not  a  headborough  or  a  constable  but  knows 
them  every  one.  Yet  they  forget  their  prison  and 
their  whipping  as  soon  as  they  are  free.  Those  things 
are  the  little  drawbacks  of  the  profession,  against 
which  must  be  set  freedom,  no  work,  no  masters,  and 
no  duties.  Who  would  not  go  upon  the  budge,  even 
though  at  the  end  there  stands  the  three  trees,  up 
which  we  shall  have  to  climb  by  the  ladder? 

The  Budge  it  is  a  delicate  trade, 
And  a  delicate  trade  of  fame; 
For  when  that  we  have  bit  the  bloe, 
We  carry  away  the  game. 

But  when  that  we  come  to  Tyburn 
For  going  upon  the  Budge, 
There  stands  Jack  Catch  the  hangman, 
That  owes  us  all  a  grudge. 

And  when  that  he  hath  noosed  us, 
And  our  friends  tip  him  no  cole; 
O  then  he  throws  us  into  the  cart, 
And  tumbles  us  in  the  hole. 

In  the  strteets  of  London  they  separate  and  practise 
each  in  the  quarter  most  likely  to  catch  the  gull.  For 
instance,  observe  this  well-dressed  young  gentleman, 
with  the  simple  manner  and  the  honest  face,  strolling 
along  the  middle-walk  of  Paul's.  Simple  as  he  looks, 
his  eye  glances  here  and  there  among  the  throng. 
Presently  he  sees  a  young  countryman,  whom  he 
knows  by  the  unfailing  signs ;  he  approaches  the  coun- 
tryman ;  he  speaks  to  him ;  in  a  few  minutes  they 


TUDOR  317 

leave  the  Cathedral  together  and  betake  them  to  a 
tavern,  where  they  dine,  each  paying  for  himself,  in 
amity  and  friendship,  though  strangers  but  an  hour 
since.  Then  comes  into  the  tavern  an  ancient  person, 
somewhat  decayed  in  appearance,  who  sits  down  and 
calls  for  a  stoup  of  ale.  "  Now,"  says  the  first  young 
man,  "  you  shall  see  a  jest,  sir."  Whereupon  he  ac- 
costs the  old  gentleman,  and  presently  proposes  to 
throw  the  dice  for  another  pot.  The  old  man  accepts, 
being  a  very  simple  and  childlike  old  man,  and  loses 
— both  his  money  and  his  temper.  Then  the  country- 
man joins  in.  ...  After  the  young  countryman  gets 
home,  he  learns  that  the  old  man  was  a  "  fingerer  "  by 
profession,  and  that  the  young  man  was  his  confidant. 

The  courtesy  man  works  where  the  sailors  and  sea- 
captains  congregate ;  he  accosts  one  who  looks  cred- 
ulous and  new ;  he  tells  him  that  he  is  one  of  a 
company,  tall,  proper  men,  all  like  himself — he  is  well- 
mannered  ;  they  are  disbanded  soldiers,  masterless 
and  moneyless ;  for  himself  he  would  not  beg,  but  for 
his  dear  comrades  he  would  do  anything.  When  he 
receives  a  shilling  he  puts  it  up  with  an  air  of  con- 
tempt, but  accepts  the  donor's  good-will,  and  thanks 
him  for  so  much.  A  plausible  villain,  this. 

Outside  Aldgate,  where  the  Essex  farmers  are  found, 
the  "ring  faller"  loves  to  practise  his  artless  game. 
Have  we  not  still  with  us  the  man  who  picks  up  the 
ring  which  he  is  willing  to  let  us  have  for  the  tenth  of 
its  value  ?  The  Elizabethan  mariner,  who  has  been 
shipwrecked  and  lost  his  all,  has  vanished.  The  Tu- 
dor disbanded  soldier  has  vanished,  but  the  army 
reserve  man  sells  his  matches  in  the  street  when  he 
cannot  find  the  work  he  looks  for  so  earnestly;  the 


3l8  LONDON 

counterfeit  cranker  who  stood  at  the  corner  of  the 
street  covered  with  mud,  and  his  face  besmeared  with 
blood,  as  one  who  has  just  had  an  attack  of  the  fall- 
ing sickness,  is  gone,  because  that  kind  of  sickness  is 
known  no  longer ;  the  "  frater  "  who  carried  a  forged 
license  to  beg  for  a  hospital,  is  also  gone ;  the  abra- 
ham  man,  who  pretended  to  be  mad,  is  gone;  the 
"  palliard  "  or  "  clapper  dodger ;"  the  angler,  who  stuck 
a  hook  in  a  long  pole  and  helped  himself  out  of  the 
open  shops  ;  the  "  prigger  of  prancers,"  a  horse  thief  ; 
the  ruffler,  the  swigman  and  prigman,  are  also  gone, 
but  their  descendants  remain  with  us,  zealous  in  the 
pursuit  of  kindred  callings,  and  watched  over  pater- 
nally by  a  force  38,000  strong — about  one  policeman 
for  every  habitual  criminal — so  that,  since  every  po- 
liceman costs  £100  a  year,  and  every  criminal  steals, 
eats,  or  destroys  property  to  the  same  amount  at  least, 
every  criminal  costs  the  country,  first,  the  things 
which  he  steals — say  £100  a  year;  next,  his  police- 
man, another  £100;  thirdly,  the  loss  of  his  own  in- 
dustry ;  and  fourthly,  the  loss  of  the  policeman's  in- 
dustry— making  in  all  about  .£500  a  year.  It  would 
be  cheaper  to  lock  him  up. 

In  the  matter  of  punishments,  we  have  entered 
upon  a  time  of  greater  cruelty  than  prevailed  under 
the  Plantagenets.  Men  are  boiled,  and  women  are 
burned  for  poisoning;  heretics  are  still  burned  —  in 
1585  one  thus  suffered  for  denying  the  divinity  of 
Christ ;  ears  are  nailed  to  the  pillory  and  sliced  off 
for  defamation  and  seditious  words  ;  long  and  cruel 
whippings  are  inflicted  —  in  one  case  through  West- 
minster and  London  for  forgery ;  an  immense  number 
are  hanged  every  year ;  the  chronicler  Macheyn  con- 


TUDOR  319 

tinually  sets  down  such  a  fact  as  that  on  this  day 
twelve  were  hanged  at  Tyburn,  seven  men  and  five 
women ;  mariners  were  hanged  at  low  water  at  Wap- 
ping,  for  offences  committed  at  sea ;  the  good  old 
custom  of  pillory  was  maintained  with  zeal ;  and  the 
parading  of  backsliders  in  carts  or  on  horseback  was 
kept  up.  Thus,  one  woman  for  selling  fry  of  fish,  un- 
lawful, rode  triumphantly  through  the  town  with  gar- 
lands of  fish  decorating  her  head  and  shoulders  and 
the  tail  of  the  horse,  while  one  went  before  beating  a 
brass  basin.  Another  woman  was  carried  round,  a 
distaff  in  her  hand  and  a  blue  hood  on  her  head,  for 
a  common  scold.  A  man  was  similarly  honored  for 
selling  measly  pork ;  and  another,  riding  with  his  head 
to  the  animal's  tail,  for  doing  something  sinful  con- 
nected with  lamb  and  veal. 

The  cruelty  of  punishments  only  shows  that  the 
administration  of  the  law  was  weak.  In  fact,  the  ma- 
chinery for  enforcing  law  and  repressing  crime  was 
growing  more  and  more  unequal  to  the  task,  as  the 
City  grew  in  numbers  and  in  population.  The  magis- 
trates sought  to  deter  by  the  spectacle  of  suffering. 
This  is  a  deterrent  which  only  acts  beneficially  when 
punishment  is  certain,  or  nearly  certain.  The  knowl- 
edge that  nine  criminals  will  escape  for  one  who  is 
whipped  all  the  way  from  Charing  Cross  to  Newgate 
encourages  the  whole  ten  to  continue.  Men  are  like 
children :  if  they'are  to  be  kept  in  the  paths  of  virtue, 
it  is  better  to  watch  and  prevent  them  continually 
than  to  leave  them  free  and  to  punish  them  if  they 
fall.  But  this  great  law  was  not  as  yet  understood. 


VII 

TUDOR  LONDON 
II.    A    PERAMBULATION 

IT  was  on  the  morning  of  June  23,  in  the  year  of 
grace  1603,  that  I  was  privileged  to  behold  John 
Stow  himself  in  the  flesh,  and  to  converse  with  him, 
and  to  walk  with  him  through  the  streets  of  the  city 
whose  history  and  origin  he  knew  better  than  any 
man  of  his  own  age  or  of  any  time  that  has  followed 
him.  It  is  common  enough  for  a  man  to  live  among 
posterity,  to  speak  to  them  and  counsel  them  and 
comfort  them  ;  but  for  a  man  to  visit  his  forefathers 
is  a  thing  of  rarer  occurrence.  At  another  time  the 
way  and  manner  of  slipping  backward  up  the  ringing 
grooves  of  change  may  be  explained  for  the  benefit 
of  others.  For  the  moment,  the  important  thing  is 
the  actual  fact. 

I  found  the  venerable  antiquary  in  his  lodging.  He 
lived — it  was  the  year  before  he  died — with  his  old 
wife,  a  childless  pair,  in  a  house  over  against  the 
Church  of  St.  Andrew  Undershaft,  in  the  street  called 
St.  Mary  Axe.  The  house  itself  was  modest,  con- 
taining two  rooms  on  the  ground-floor,  and  one  large 
room,  or  solar,  as  it  would  have  been  called  in  olden 


TUDOR 


321 


time,  above.  There  was  a  garden  at  the  back,  and 
behind  the  garden  stood  the  ruins  of  St.  Helen's  Nun- 
nery, with  the  grounds  and  gardens  of  that  once  fa- 
mous house,  which  had  passed  into  the  possession  of 
the  Leathersellers'  Company.  This  open  space  af- 
forded freedom  and  sweetness  for  the  air,  which  doubt- 
less conduced  to  the  an- 
tiquary's length  of  days. 
Outside  the  door  I  found, 
sitting  in  an  arm-chair, 
Mistress  Stow,  an  ancient 
dame.  She  had  knitting 
in  her  lap,  and  she  was 
fast  asleep,  the  day  being 
fine  and  warm,  with  a  -•  'T~~ ~ 

hot    SUn    in    the    heavens,        SIGN  OF  THE  THREE  KINGS,  BUCKLESBURY 

and  a  soft  wind  from  the 

south.  Without  asking  her  leave,  therefore,  I  passed 
within,  and  mounting  a  steep,  narrow  stair,  found 
myself  in  the  library  and  in  the  presence  of  John 
Stow  himself.  The  place  was  a  long  room,  lofty 
in  the  middle,  but  with  sloping  sides.  It  was  lit  by 
two  dormer  windows ;  neither  carpet  nor  arras,  nor 
hangings  of  any  kind,  adorned  the  room,  which  was 
filled,  so  that  it  was  difficult  to  turn  about  in  it,  with 
books,  papers,  parchments,  and  rolls.  They  lay  piled 
on  the  floor;  they  stood  in  lines  and  columns  against 
the  walls  ;  they  were  heaped  upon  the  table  ;  they  lay 
at  the  right  hand  of  the  chair  ready  for  use ;  they 
were  everywhere.  I  observed,  too,  that  they  were 
not  such  books  as  may  be  seen  in  a  great  man's  li- 
brary, bound  after  the  Italian  fashion,  with  costly 
leather,  gilt  letters,  golden  clasps,  and  silken  strings. 


322  LONDON 

Not  so.  These  books  were  old  folios  for  the  most 
part ;  the  backs  were  broken ;  the  leaves,  where  any 
lay  open,  were  discolored ;  many  of  them  were  in  the 
Gothic  black  letter.  On  the  table  were  paper,  pens, 
and  ink,  and  in  the  straight-backed  arm-chair  sat  the 
old  man  himself,  pen  in  hand,  laboriously  bending 
over  a  huge  tome  from  which  he  was  making  extracts. 
He  wore  a  black  silk  cap;  his  long  white  hair  fell 
down  upon  his  shoulders.  The  casements  of  the  win- 
dows stood  wide  open,  and  through  one  of  them, 
which  looked  to  the  south,  the  summer  sunshine 
poured  warm  and  bright  upon  the  old  scholar's  head, 
and  upon  the  table  at  which  he  sat. 

When  I  entered  the  room  he  looked  up,  rose,  and 
bowed  courteously.  His  figure  was  tall  and  spare; 
his  shoulders  were  rounded  by  much  bending  over 
books ;  his  face  was  scored  with  the  lines  and  wrinkles 
of  old  age ;  his  eyes  were  clear  and  keen ;  but  his  as- 
pect was  kindly ;  his  speech  was  soft  and  gentle. 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  "  you  are  welcome.  I  had  never 
expected  or  looked  to  converse  in  the  flesh,  or  in 
the  spirit  —  I  know  not  which  this  visit  may  be 
called  —  with  one  from  after  generations;  from  our 
children  and  grandchildren.  May  I  ask  to  which 
generation — 

"  I  belong  to  the  late  nineteenth  century." 

"  It  is  nearly  three  hundred  years  to  come.  Bones 
o'  me  !  Ten  generations !  I  take  this  visit,  sir,  as  an 
encouragement ;  even  a  special  mark  of  favor  bestowed 
upon  me  by  the  Lord,  to  show  His  servant  that  his 
work  will  not  be  forgotten." 

"  Forgotten  ?  Nay,  Master  Stow,  there  are  not 
many  men  of  your  age  whom  we  would  not  lose  be- 


TUDOR  323 

fore  you  are  forgotten.  Believe  me,  the  Survey  by 
John  Stow  will  last  as  long  as  the  City  itself." 

"  Truly,  sir,"  the  old  man  replied,  "  my  sole  pains 
and  care  have  ever  been  to  write  the  truth.  It  is  forty 
years —  Ah,  what  a  man  was  I  at  forty !  What  la- 
bors could  I  then  accomplish  between  uprising  and 
downlying!  Forty  years,  I  say,  since  I  wrote  the 
lines : 

Of  smooth  and  feathering  speech  remember  to  take  heed, 
For  truth  in  plain  words  may  be  told  ;  of  craft  a  lie  hath  need. 

"Of  craft,"  he  repeated,  "a  lie  hath  need.  If  the 
world  would  consider  —  well,  sir,  I  am  old  and  my 
friends  are  mostly  dead,  and  men,  I  find,  care  little  for 
the  past  wherein  was  life,  but  still  regard  the  present 
and  push  on  towards  the  future,  wherein  are  death 
and  the  grave.  And  for  my  poor  services  the  king 
hath  granted  letters  patent  whereby  I  am  licensed  to 
beg.  I  complain  not,  though  for  one  who  is  a  Lon- 
don citizen,  and  the  grandson  of  reputable  citizens,  to 
beg  one's  bread  is  to  be  bankrupt,  and  of  bankrupts 
this  city  hath  great  scorn.  Yet,  I  say,  I  complain 
not." 

"  In  so  long  a  life,"  I  said,  "  you  must  have  many 
memories." 

"  So  many,  sir,  that  they  fill  my  mind.  Often,  as  I 
sit  here,  whither  cometh  no  one  now  to  converse 
about  the  things  of  old,  my  senses  are  closed  to  the 
present,  and  my  thoughts  carry  me  back  to  the  old 
days.  Why  " — his  eyes  looked  back  as  he  spoke — "  I 
remember  King  Harry  the  Eighth  himself,  the  like  of 
whom  for  masterfulness  this  realm  hath  never  seen. 
Who  but  a  strong  man  could  by  his  own  will  over- 


324  LONDON 

throw — yea,  and  tear  up  by  the  very  foundations— 
the  religion  which  seemed  made  to  endure  forever? 
Sure  I  am  that  when  I  was  a  boy  there  was  no  thought 
of  any  change.  I  remember  when  in  the  streets  every 
second  man  was  priest  or  monk.  The  latter  still  wore 
his  habit — grey,  white,  or  black.  But  you  could  not 
tell  the  priest  from  the  layman,  for  the  priests  were 
so  proud  that  they  went  clothed  in  silks  and  furs ; 
yea,  and  of  bright  colors  like  any  court  gallant ;  their 
shoes  spiked ;  their  hair  crisped ;  their  girdles  armed 
with  silver ;  and  in  like  manner  their  bridles  and  their 
spurs  ;  their  caps  laced  and  buttoned  with  gold.  Now 
our  clergy  go  in  sober  attire,  so  that  the  gravity  of 
their  calling  is  always  made  manifest  to  their  own  and 
others'  eyes  by  the  mere  color  of  their  dress.  I  re- 
member, being  then  a  youth,  how  the  Houses  were 
dissolved  and  the  monks  turned  out.  All  were  swept 
away.  There  was  not  even  left  so  much  as  an  hospi- 
tal for  the  sick ;  even  the  blind  men  of  Elsing's  were 
sent  adrift,  and  the  lepers  from  the  Lazar  house,  and 
the  old  priests  from  the  Papey.  There  was  no  help 
for  the  poor  in  those  days,  and  folk  murmured,  but 
below  breath,  and  would  fain,  but  dared  not  say  so, 
have  seen  the  old  religion  again.  The  king  gave  the 
houses  to  his  friends.  Lord  Cromwell  got  Austin 
Friars,  where  my  father,  citizen  and  tallow-chandler, 
had  his  house.  Nay,  so  greedy  of  land  was  my  lord 
that  he  set  back  my  father's  wall,  and  so  robbed  him 
of  his  garden,  and  there  was  no  redress,  because  he 
Was  too  strong." 

He  got  up  and  walked  about  the  room,  talking  as 
he  paced  the  narrow  limits.  He  talked  garrulously, 
as  if  it  pleased  him  to  talk  about  the  past.  "  When 


TUDOR  325 

we  came  presently  to  study  Holy  Scripture,"  he  said, 
"  where  there  is  an  example  or  a  warning  for  every- 
thing, we  read  the  history  of  Ahab  and  of  Naboth's 
vineyard ;  and  for  my  own  part  I  could  never  avoid 
comparing  my  Lord  Cromwell  with  Ahab,  and  the 
vineyard  with  my  father's  garden,  though  Naboth  had 
never  to  pay  rent  for  the  vineyard  which  was  taken 
from  him  as  my  father  had.  The  end  of  my  Lord 
Cromwell  was  sudden  and  violent,  like  the  end  of 
King  Ahab." 

"You  belong  to  an  old  city  family,  Master  Stow?" 
I  asked. 

"  Sir,  my  forefathers  for  five  generations — at  least, 
my  memory  goes  not  farther  back — are  all  buried  in 
the  little  green  church-yard  behind  St.  Michael's  Corn- 
hill.  My  grandfather,  citizen  and  tallow-chandler, 
died  when  I  was  yet  of  tender  years.  This  have  I  al- 
ways regretted,  because  he  might  have  told  me  many 
curious  things  concerning  the  City  in  the  time  of  Ed- 
ward the  Fourth.  The  penance  of  Jane  Shore  he 
would  surely  remember.  Nay,  he  may  even  have 
known  that  unfortunate  lady,  wife  of  a  reputable  citi- 
zen. Yet  have  I  in  my  youth  conversed  with  old 
men  and  learned  much  from  them.  My  grandfather, 
by  his  last  will,  thought  it  no  superstition  to  leave 
money  for  watching-candles.  I  was  once  taken  to  the 
church  to  see  them  burning,  and  there  I  remember  I 
saw  a  poor  woman  who  received  every  Sunday,  for  a 
year,  one  penny  for  saying  five  pater-nosters  for  the 
good  of  his  soul.  Thus  she  lived,  poor  wretch,  wast- 
ing her  breath  in  fruitless  labor.  I  marvel  to  think 
what  has  become  of  all  those  who  lived  by  the  altar 
in  the  old  days.  The  priests  of  the  churches  and  the 


326 


LONDON 


chantries,  the  chaplains  of  the  fraternities,  the  singing- 
men,  the  petty  canons,  the  sextons,  singers,  sayers  of 
pater-nosters,  sellers  of  crosses  and  beads  and  chaplets 
and  wax  tapers,  the  monks  and  the  nuns  with  all  their 
officers  and  servants — there  were  many  thousands  in 


THE  MANNER   OF   BURNING.  ANNE   ASKEW,  JOHN    LACBLS,  JOHN    ADAMS,   AND   NICOLAS 
BELENIAN,  WITH   CERTANE  OF   YE  COUNSEL!.  SITTING   IN   SMITHFIELD 


this  city  alone  —  what  became  of  them?  How  get 
they  now  a  livelihood  ?  Tell  me  that.  As  for  me,  I 
have  been  hauled  before  the  courts  on  a  charge  of  Pa- 
pistry. Bones  o'  me !  All  my  crime  was  the  reading 
of  old  books,  yet  do  I  remember  the  evil  days  of  King 
Edward's  time,  when  the  Reformation  was  new,  and 


TUDOR  327 

people's  minds  were  troubled,  and  all  things  seemed 
turning  to  destruction,  so  that  many  welcomed  back 
the  old  religion  when  Mary  came,  yet  when  she  died 
there  was  found  none  to  mourn  for  its  banishment. 
Sir,  the  old  are  apt  to  praise  the  past,  but  from  one 
who  has  lived  through  the  glorious  reign  of  Queen- 
Elizabeth  shall  you  hear  nothing  but  praise  of  the 
present.  Consider"— he  arose  and  walked  to  the  open 
window  and  looked  out — "  this  fine  town  of  London, 
like  the  realm  itself,  was*  devoured  by  the  priests  and 
monks.  It  is  now  freed  from  those  locusts.  The  land 
that  belonged  to  the  Church  could  not  be  sold,  so  that 
those  who  lived  upon  it  were  always  tenants  and  serv- 
ants. That  land  is  now  free.  Learning,  which  be- 
fore was  on  sufferance,  is  now  free.  Nay,  there  hath 
been  so  great  a  zeal  for  learning — such  an  exemplar 
was  Her  Highness  the  Queen — that  noble  ladies,  as 
well  as  gentlemen,  have  become  skilled  in  Latin, 
Greek,  Italian,  and  even  in  Hebrew.  The  trade  of 
the  City  hath  doubled  and  trebled.  Thanks  to  the 
wisdom  of  our  merchants  and  their  courage,  London 
doth  now  surpass  Antwerp.  The  Spaniard,  who  vain- 
ly thought  to  rule  the  world,  is  humbled,  and  by  us. 
The  French,  who  would  strike  at  England  through 
Scotland,  have  lost  their  power.  Our  ships  sail  round 
the  world ;  our  merchants  trade  with  India  in  the 
east  and  with  America  in  the  west :  our  trading  com- 
panies cover  all  the  seas.  What  does  it  matter  that 
I  am  old  and  poor  and  licensed  to  beg  my  bread — and 
that  in  a  city  which  hath  ever  scorned  poverty — what 
does  it  matter,  I  say,  so  that  one  has  lived  through 
this  most  happy  reign  and  seen  this  city  increase, 
year  by  year,  in  wealth  and  greatness?  Who  am  I 


328  LONDON 

that  I  should  murmur?  I  have  had  my  prayer.  The 
Lord  hath  graciously  made  me  the  historian  of  the 
City.  My  work  will  be  a  monument.  What  more 
can  a  man  want  than  to  have  the  desire  of  his  heart  ?" 
His  voice  trembled.  He  stood  in  the  sunshine,  which 
wrapped  him  as  with  a  glory.  Then  he  turned  to  me. 

"  Sir,"  said  he,  "  you  are  here — whether  in  the  flesh 
or  the  spirit  I  know  not.  Come  with  me.  Let  me 
show  you  my  city  and  my  people.  In  three  hundred 
years  there  will  be  many  changes  and  the  sweeping 
away  of  many  old  landmarks,  I  doubt  not.  There 
must  be  many  changes  in  customs  and  usages  and  in 
fashions  of  manners  and  of  dress.  Come  with  me. 
You  shall  behold  my  present — and  your  past." 

He  put  on  his  cloak — a  shabby  cloak  it  was,  and  too 
short  for  his  tall  figure — and  led  the  way  down  the 
narrow  stairs  into  the  street.  He  stepped  out  of  the 
house,  and  looked  up  and  down  the  street,  sniffing  the 
air  with  the  greatest  satisfaction,  as  if  it  had  been  la- 
den with  the  perfumes  of  Araby  the  Blest  instead  of 
the  smell  of  a  glue-making  shop  hard  by. 

"Ha!"  he  said,  "the  air  of  London  is  wholesome. 
We  have  had  no  plague  since  the  sweating  sickness, 
fifty  years  ago."  (There  was  to  be  another  the  year 
after,  but  this  he  could  not  know,  and  it  was  not  for 
me  to  tell  him.)  "Yet  at  Iseldon,  hard  by,  fevers  are 
again  very  prevalent,  and  the  falling  sickness  is  re- 
ported from  Westminster.  This,  sir,  is  the  street  of 
St.  Mary  Axe.  It  is  not  one  of  our  great  streets,  yet 
many  worshipful  men  live  here.  Opposite  is  the  house 
of  one  who  is  worth  £4000 — aye,  £4000  at  least ;  not 
a  Gresham  or  a  Staple,  yet  a  man  of  substance."  The 
house  was  four  stories  high,  the  front  of  brick  and 


£> 

/•**• 


OLD   FOUNTAIN    INN    IN    THE   MINORIES 

Taken  down  in  1793 


TUDOR  331 

timber,  the  windows  filled  above  and  below  with  rich 
carvings,  and  having  a  high  gable.  "  The  wealth  of 
private  citizens  hath  lately  much  increased.  In  my 
youth  there  were. few  such  houses;  now  there  are  a 
dozen  where  formerly  there  was  but  one.  If  you  go 
into  that  house,  sir,  you  will  find  the  table  plentiful 
and  the  wine  good  ;  you  will  see  arras  hanging  in 
every  chamber,  or  a  painted  cloth  with  proverbs  at 
least ;  sweet  herbs  or  flowers  are  strewn  in  every 
room  ;  the  house  is  warmed  with  fires  ;  the  sideboards 
are  loaded  with  plate  or  are  bright  with  Murano  glass. 
There  are  coffers  of  ivory  and  wood  to  hold  the  good 
man's  treasure ;  and  in  an  upper  chambeV  you  shall 
see  hanging  up  the  cloaks  and  doublets,  the  gowns 
and  petticoats,  of  this  worthy  and  worshipful  mer- 
chant and  his  family,  in  silk  and  velvet,  precious  and 
costly.  Fifty  years  ago  there  would  have  been  none 
of  these  things,  but  treen  platters ;  of  arras  none ;  and 
but  one  poor  silver  mazer  for  all  his  plate.  But  we 
are  not  ashamed  to  see  the  tenements  of  the  crafts- 
men side  by  side  with  the  great  houses  of  the  rich. 
For  we  are  all  brothers  in  this  city;  one  family  are 
we,  rich  and  poor  together ;  we  are  united  in  our 
companies  and  in  our  work ;  our  prentices  are  taught 
their  trade ;  to  our  maids  we  give  marriage  portions ; 
we  suffer  no  stranger  among  us;  our  sick  and  aged 
are  kept  from  want  and  suffering." 

"  But  you  have  great  Lords  and  noblemen  among 
you.  Surely  they  are  not  of  your  family." 

"  Sir,  the  time  was  when  it  was  a  happy  circum- 
stance for  the  City  to  have  the  nobles  within  her 
walls.  That  time  is  past.  They  are  fast  leaving  our 
bounds.  One  or  two  alone  remain,  and  we  shall  not 


332  LONDON 

lament  their  departure.  There  is  no  longer  any  dan- 
ger that  the  City  will  be  separate  in  feeling  from  the 
country,  and  it  is  true  that  the  rufflers  who  follow  in 
a  noble  lord's  train  are  ever  ready  to  turn  a  silly  girl's 
head  or  to  lead  a  prentice  into  dissolute  ways.  In  this 
street  there  were  once  no  fewer  than  three  parish 
churches.  Yonder  ruin  at  the  north  end  was  St.  Au- 
gustine on  the  Wall :  here  of  old  times  was  the  house 
of  the  old  and  sick  priests,  called  the  Papey.  King 
Henry  turned  them  out,  and  who  took  in  the  poor  old 
men  I  know  not.  'Twas  a  troubled  time.  Yonder 
was  the  church — its  church -yard  yet  remaining — of 
St.  Mary  Axe,  dedicated  not  only  to  the  Virgin  whom 
now  we  have  ceased  to  worship,  yet  still  reverence, 
but  also  to  St.  Ursula,  whom  we  regard  no  more,  and 
to  the  Eleven  Thousand  Virgins,  at  whose  pretended 
miracle  we  scoff.  And  opposite  is  the  goodly  church 
of  St.  Andrew  Undershaft.  Of  churches  we  have" 
fewer  than  of  old.  As  for  piety,  truly  I  see  no  differ- 
ence, for  some  will  always  be  pious,  and  some  prodigal 
and  profligate.  I  remember,"  he  went  on,  gazing,  as 
was  his  wont,  at  the  church  as  if  he  loved  the  very 
stones — "  I  remember  the  May-pole  when  it  hung  upon 
hooks  along  the  south  wall  of  the  church.  I  never 
saw  it  erected,  because  Evil  May-day,  before  I  was 
born,  when  the  prentices  rose  against  the  aliens,  was 
the  last  time  that  it  was  put  up.  It  was  destroyed  in 
King  Edward's  time,  when  one  Sir  Stephen,  curate  of 
Katherine  Cree,  preached  at  Paul's  Cross  that  the 
May-pole  was  an  idol.  So  the  people  brought  axes 
and  cut  it  up — the  goodliest  May-pole  that  the  world 
has  ever  seen,  and  taller  than  the  steeple  of  the 
church.  The  same  Sir  Stephen  wanted  to  change 


TUDOR  333 

the  names  of  the  churches,  and  the  names  of  the  week- 
days, and  the  time  of  Lent,  all  for  the  sake  of  idola- 
try. And  the  same  Sir  Stephen  caused  the  death  of 
the  most  honest  man  that  ever  lived,  for  alleged  sedi- 
tious words.  Well — 'tis  fifty  years  ago." 

With  this  reminiscence  we  passed  through  Leaden- 
hall,  and  into  a  broad  and  open  place.  "  Now,"  said 
Stow,  "we  are  in  the  very  heart  of  the  City.  Here 
hath  been,  for  time  out  of  mind,  a  corn-market.  And 
here  are  pillory  and  stocks,  but,"  said  Stow,  "  this  pil- 
lory is  for  false  dealing  only.  The  greater  pillory  is 
in  Cheapside.  Here  we  have  the  Tun  prison  "  —  in 
shape  the  building  somewhat  resembled  a  tun — "  for 
street  offenders  and  the  like.  It  has  been  a  city  pris- 
on for  three  hundred  years  and  more.  Beside  it  is  the 
conduit.  Here  are  two  churches:  St.  Peter's,  which 
falsely  pretends  to  be  the  most  ancient  of  any  in  the 
City,  and  St.  Michael's.  But  the  chief  glory  of  Corn- 
hill  is  the  Royal  Exchange.  Let  us  look  in." 

The  entrance  and  principal  front  of  the  Royal  Ex- 
change were  on  the  south  side.  We  looked  in.  The 
place  was  crowded  with  merchants,  grave  and  sober 
men,  walking  within  in  pairs,  or  gathered  in  little 
groups.  Among  them  were  foreigners  from  Germany, 
France,  Venice,  Genoa,  Antwerp,  and  even  Russia, 
conspicuous  by  their  dress.  "  Before  the  building  of 
this  place,"  said  Stow,  "  our  merchants  had  no  place 
to  meet,  and  were  forced  to  seek  out  each  other ;  nor 
was  there  any  place  where  the  latest  news  might  be 
brought,  however  much  the  interest  of  the  City  might 
be  affected.  Now  all  is  changed,  and  every  morning 
our  worshipful  merchants  meet  to  hear  the  news,  and 
to  discuss  their  business.  Come,  we  must  not  linger, 


334  LONDON 

for  we  have  much  to  see ;  else  there  would  be  many 
things  to  tell.  Believe  me,  sir,  I  could  discourse  all 
day  long  upon  the  trade  of  London  and  yet  not  make 
an  end." 

He  led  me  past  the  Royal  Exchange,  past  two 
churches,  one  on  the  north  side  and  one  on  the  south, 
into  a  broad  and  open  street,  which  I  knew  must  be 
Cheapside. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  "  is  the  beauty  of  London.  This, 
good  Sir,  is  Chepe." 

The  street  was  at  least  double  the  width  of  its  mod- 
ern successor.  The  houses,  which  were  the  fairest, 
taken  all  together,  in  the  whole  of  the  City,  were 
nearly  all  five  stories  high,  each  story  projecting  above 
the  one  below,  with  high-pitched  gable  facing  the 
street.  The  fronts  were  of  brick  and  timber,  and 
some  of  them  were  curiously  and  richly  carved.  In 
some  the  third  story  was  provided  with  a  balcony 
shaded  from  the  sun.  The  ground-floor  contained  the 
shop,  protected  by  a  prentice.  A  sign  hung  in  front 
of  every  house.  In  the  middle  was  Queen  Eleanor's 
cross,  the  figure  of  the  Virgin  and  Holy  Infant  de- 
faced by  zealous  Protestants.  Near  the  cross  was  the 
conduit.  The  shops  on  the  south  side  were  of  gro- 
cers, haberdashers,  and  upholsterers.  Farther  west 
the  goldsmiths  stood  together,  and  then  the  mercers. 
The  street  was  filled  with  people,  some  riding,  some 
walking.  There  were  gallants,  followed  by  servants 
carrying  their  swords ;  there  were  grave  city  mer- 
chants and  fine  city  madams ;  there  were  working-men 
and  craftsmen  ;  there  were  the  prentices,  too,  in  every 
shop,  bawling  their  wares. 

"  When  I  was  a  prentice,"  said  Stow,  "  the  boys 


. 


iL^SaiR^' ':  •••&tiy^ 


SOUTH-WEST   VIEW   OF   AN    ANCIENT   STRUCTURE    IN    SHIP-YARD,  TEMPLE   BAR 


TUDOR  337 

were  made  to  wear  blue  cloaks  in  summer  and  blue 
gowns  in  winter,  with  breeches  and  stockings  of  white 
broadcloth,  and  flat  caps.  They  attended  their  mas- 
ter at  night  with  a  lantern  and  clubs,  and  they  fetched 
the  water  in  the  morning,  unless  they  were  mercers, 
who  were  excused.  But  all  good  manners  are  changed. 
Now  they  dress  as  they  please,  and  except  that  they 
carry  the  club  and  break  each  other's  pates  withal, 
they  are  no  longer  like  the  old  prentice.  Also,  for- 
merly £\o  would  suffice  to  bind  a  lad  and  make  him 
free  of  the  City ;  now  ^100  is  wanted.  Well,  sir,  here 
you  have  Chepe.  Rich  it  is  with  goodly  houses  and 
its  ancient  churches ;  I  say  not  stately  churches,  be- 
cause our  forefathers  loved  better  to  beautify  the  reli- 
gious houses  than  their  parish  churches  —  yet  many 
goodly  monuments  are  erected  in  them  to  the  memo- 
ries of  dead  worthies.  Much  of  the  carved  work  and 
the  painting  has  been  destroyed  or  defaced  by  the  zeal 
of  reformers,  who  have  broken  the  painted  windows 
so  that  false  doctrine  should  no  longer  be  preached 
by  those  dumb  orators.  Truly,  when  I  think  upon  the 
churches  as  they  were,  with  all  their  monuments  and 
chapels  and  holy  roods,  carved  and  beautified  by  the 
cunning  of  the  sculptor  and  limner,  and  look  upon 
them  as  they  are,  hacked  and  hewn,  I  am  fain  to 
weep  for  sorrow.  Yet,  again,  when  I  remember  the 
swarms  of  monks  and  priests  from  whom  we  are  set 
free,  and  our  holy  martyrs  who  perished  in  the  flames, 
I  confess  that  the  destruction  was  needful."  He 
stepped  aside  to  make  room  for  a  gentlewoman  who 
walked  proudly  along  the  street,  followed  by  a  servant. 
"  Aye,"  he  murmured,  "  thy  husband  is  a  respectable 
merchant  on  'Change ;  his  father  before  him,  citizen 


338  LONDON 

and  armorer,  also  respected.  But  his  profits  will  not 
long  suffice  to  meet  thine  extravagance,  my  fine  city 
madam." 

She  was  of  the  middle  height,  and  about  thirty 
years  of  age  ;  her  hair  was  a  bright  red.  "  A  week  ago 
it  was  brown,"  said  my  guide.  It  was  knotted  and 
raised  above  her  forehead ;  on  her  head  she  wore  a 
hood  of  muslin,  under  which  one  could  see  gold  threads 
in  her  hair,  and  open  peascods  with  pearls  for  peas ; 
her  face  was  smeared  all  over  with  paint ;  a  heavy 
gold  chain  hung  round  her  neck ;  her  ruff  was  of  enor- 
mous size,  and  her  waist  was  extravagantly  long ;  her 
gown  was  of  rich  velvet,  looped  back  to  show  her  pet- 
ticoat of  flowered  satin  ;  she  had  a  lovelock  under  her 
left  ear,  tied  with  a  freshly-cut  rose ;  she  was  so  stuffed 
out  with  hoops  that  she  covered  as  much  space  as  six 
women;  in  one  hand  she  carried  a  fan,  and  in  the 
other  a  pomander-box,  at  which  she  sniffed  perpetually. 

"  She  moves  like  a  painted  galley,"  said  Stow.  "  No 
barge  on  the  river  finer  to  look  at.  All  the  argosies 
of  the  East  would  be  swallowed  up  by  such  a  woman. 
'Give,  give,'  say  the  daughters  of  the  horse-leech. 
Sir,  the  Lord  made  the  female  less  comely  than  her 
mate ;  witness  the  peahen  and  the  pullet  in  their  rus- 
set garb  compared  with  the  splendor  of  their  male. 
This,  I  take  it,  is  the  reason  why  women  continually 
seek  by  some  new  fashion  or  device  to  remove  the 
inequality,  and,  if  possible,  to  overtop  their  lords  as 
well  as  each  other.  As  for  me,  I  have  always  loved  a 
maid  in  her  simplicity,  her  hair  falling  in  curls  about 
her  lovely  face,  and  her  shape  visible  instead  of  hid- 
den under  ruffs  and  hoops.  But,  alas !  what  hath  a 
man  of  eighty  to  do  with  maidens?"  he  sighed. 


TUDOR  339 

"Yonder,"  he  went  on,  "is  the  chief  pillory,  the 
whipping-place  of  the  City.  Chepe  is  not  only  a  place 
of  trade  and  fine  clothes.  Here  have  I  seen  many 
things  done  that  would  be  cruel  but  for  the  common 
weal.  Once  I  saw  a  comely  maiden  lose  her  ears  and 
have  her  forehead  branded  for  trying  to  poison  her 
mistress.  Once  I  saw  a  school -master  flogged  for 
cruelly  beating  a  boy.  It  was  rare  to  see  the  boys 
shouting  and  clapping  their  hands  as  the  poor  wretch 
screamed.  Some  have  I  seen  pilloried  for  cheating, 
some  for  seditious  words,  some  for  disorder.  Pillory 
is  a  potent  physician.  The  mere  sight  of  these  round 
holes  and  that  post  doth  act  like  a  medicine  upon  old 
and  young.  It  is  in  Srnithfield,  not  in  Chepe,  that 
we  chiefly  hold  our  executions.  Men  and  women 
have  been  burned  there  for  other  things  besides  her- 
esy: for  poisoning,  for  false  coining,  for  murdering. 
Many  are  hanged  every  year  in  that  ruffians'  field. 
But  to-day  we  shall  not  see  executions.  Let  us  talk 
of  more  mirthful  things.  And  see,  here  comes  a,  wed- 
ding-train !" 

The  music  came  first,  a  noise  of  crowds  and;  clarions 
playing  merrily.  Next  came  damsels  bearing  bride- 
cakes and  gilded  loaves.  After  them  a  young  man 
carried  the  silver  bride-cup,  filled  with  hippocras  and 
garnished  with  rosemary,  which  stands  for  constancy. 
Then  came  the  bride  herself,  a  very  beauteous  lady, 
dressed  all.  in  white,  decorated  with  long  chains  of 
gold,  pearls,  and  precious  stones.  On  her  head  was  a 
white  lace  cap.  She  was  led  by  two  boys  in  green 
and  gold.  After  her  walked  her  parents  and  other 
members  of  the  family. 

"  Ha !"  he  said,  "  there  will  be  rare  feasting  to-day, 


340  LONDON 

with  masks  and  mumming  and  dancing.  We  marry 
but  once  in  our  lives.  'Twere  pity  if  we  could  not 
once  rejoice.  Yet  there  are  some  who  would  turn 
every  feast  into  a  fast,  and  make  even  a  wedding  the 
occasion  for  a  sermon.  See !  after  a  wedding  a  fu- 
neral. I  am  glad  the  bride  met  not  this.  'Tis  bad 
luck  for  a  bride  to  meet  a  burying." 

Then  there  came  slowly  marching  down  the  street, 
while  the  people  stepped  aside  and  took  off  their  hats, 
a  funeral  procession. 

"  Who  hath  died  ?"  asked  Stow.  "  This  it  is  to  be 
•old  and  to  live  retired.  I  have  not  heard.  Yet,  con- 
sidering the  length  of  the  procession,  one  would  say  a 
prince  in  Israel.  Neighbor,"  he  asked  a  by-stander, 
"  whose  funeral  is  this  ?  Ha  !  So  he  is  dead !  A 
worthy  man  ;  a  knight,  once  sheriff,  citizen,  and  mer- 
cer. You  will  see,  my  friend,  that  we  still  know  how 
to  mourn  our  dead  worthies,  though  we  lack  the  sing- 
ing clerks  and  priests  who  formerly  went  first,  chant- 
ing all  the  way." 

The  procession  drew  nearer.  "  Now,"  he  said,  "  I 
take  it  that  you  will  not  know  the  order  of  the  march, 
wherefore  I  will  interpret.  First,  therefore,  walk  the 
children  of  Christ's  Hospital,  two  by  two ;  he  was, 
therefore,  a  benefactor  or  governor  of  the  school. 
Then  follow  the  yeomen  conductors,  two  by  two,  in 
black  coats,  with  black  staves.  The  poor  men  of  the 
parish,  two  by  two  ;  then  the  poor  women  in  like  or- 
der; the  choir  of  the  church;  and  the  preacher — he 
has  crape  over  his  cassock.  Then  a  gentleman  in 
hood  and  gown  bearing  the  standard.  Next  three 
gentlewomen  in  black  gowns ;  there  are  the  aldermen 
in  violet.  Those  two  grave  persons  are  the  executors 


TUDOR 


341 


of  the  deceased.  There  is  the  pennon  borne  by  a 
gentleman  in  hood  and  gown ;  the  helm  and  crest 
borne  by  a  pursuivant ;  the  coat  of  arms  borne  by  a 
herald,  Clarence,  King  at  Arms." 

After  this  long  procession   came  the  coffin   itself, 
borne  by  six  yeomen  in  black  coats ;  it  was  covered 


OBSEQUIES   OF  SIR    PHILIP   SIDNEY 

with  a  black  velvet  pall.  On  either  side  walked  two 
gentlemen  in  hoods  and  gowns,  carrying  pennons. 
One  of  them  bore  the  arms  of  the  deceased,  a  gentle- 
man of  good  family;  one  bore  the  arms  of  the  City; 
one  those  of  the  Mercer's  Company ;  and  one  those 
of  the  Merchant  Adventurers. 

Then  came  the  rest  of  the  procession,  and  my  guide 
began  again :  "  There  follows  the  chief  mourner,  the 
eldest  son  of  the  deceased ;  then  four  other  mourners, 


342  LONDON 

two  by  two ;  then  the  Chamberlain  and  Town  Clerk 
of  the  City ;  the  Sword-bearer ;  the  Lord  Mayor  in 
black ;  the  Alderman  having  no  blacks."  I  confess 
that  I  understood  not  the  distinction,  or  what  fol- 
lowed. "  The  estates  of  women  having  blacks ;  Al- 
dermen's wives  having  no  blacks ;  the  city  companies 
represented  by  their  wardens  and  clerks ;  the  masters 
of  the  hospitals  having  green  staves."  I  could  have 
asked  why  they  chose  this  color,  but  had  no  time. 
"  Lastly,  the  neighbors  and  parishioners  carrying  ever- 
greens, bay,  and  rosemary." 

So  it  was  finished.  A  procession  wellnigh  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  in  length. 

"  Since  we  must  all  die,"  said  Master  Stow,  "  it 
must  be  a  singular  comfort  to  the  rich  and  those  in 
high  place  to  think  that  they  will  be  borne  to  their 
graves  in  such  state  and  pomp,  with,  doubtless,  a 
goodly  monument  in  the  church  to  perpetuate  their 
memory.  As  for  me,  I  am  poor  and  of  no  account, 
only  a  beggar  licensed  by  grace  of  his  Majesty  the 
King.  My  parish  church  hath  a  fine  pall  which  it 
will  lend  me  to  cover  my  coffin.  Four  men  will  carry 
me  across  the  street  and  will  lower  me  into  my  grave. 
And  so  we  end." 

•"  Not  so  an  end,  good  Master  Stow,"  I  said.  "  This 
city  Knight — his  name  I  did  not  catch — shall  be  for- 
gotten before  the  present  generation  passes  away, 
even  though  they  erect  a  monument  to  his  memory ; 
but  thy  achievements  will  be  remembered  as  long  as 
London  Town  shall  continue.  I  see  already  the  mon- 
ument that  shall  be  raised  to  thy  memory,  in  addition 
to  the  book  which  will  never  die." 

"  Amen.     So  be  it,"  he  replied.     "  Come,  you  have 


TUDOR  343 

seen  the  merchants  in  the  Royal  Exchange,  and  you 
have  seen  the  shops  of  Chepe.  We  will  now,  before 
the  hour  of  dinner,  visit  Paul's  Church-yard  and  Paul's 
Walk." 

At  the  western  end  of  Cheapside  was  the  Church 
of  St.  Michael  le  Quern,  a  small  building  sixty  feet 
long,  with  a  square  tower  fifty  feet  high,  and  a  clock 
on  the  south  face.  At  the  back  of  the  church  was 
the  little  conduit.  The  houses  north  and  south  were 
here  exactly  alike,  uniform  in  size  and  construction. 
On  the  south  side  a  broad  archway,  with  a  single  room 
above,  and  a  gabled  roof,  opened  into  Paul's  Church- 
yard. "  There  are  six  gates,"  said  Stow,  "  round  the 
church-yard.  This  is  called  Paul's  Gate,  or,  by  some, 
the  Little  Gate." 

The  area  included  was  crowded  with  buildings  and 
planted  with  trees.  On  the  north  side  were  many 
shops  of  stationers,  each  with  its  sign  —  the  White 
Greyhound,  the  Flower  de  Luce,  the  Angel,  the 
Spread  Eagle,  and  others.  In  the  middle  rose  the 
church  towering  high,  its  venerable  stones  black  with 
age  and  the  smoke  of  London. 

"  The  place  is  much  despoiled,"  said  the  antiquary, 
"since  the  days  of  the  old  religion.  Many  things 
have  been  taken  down  which  formerly  beautified  the 
church-yard.  For  instance,  on  this  very  spot,  covered 
now  with  dwelling-houses  and  shops,  was  the  Charnel 
Chapel,  as  old  as  King  Edward  the  First.  It  was  a 
chapel  of  the  Blessed  Virgin.  Sir  Richard  Whitting- 
ton  endowed  it  with  a  chaplain.  There  were  two 
brotherhoods ;  its  crypt  was  filled  with  bones ;  the 
chapel  was  filled  with  monuments.  One  would  have 
thought  that  reverence  for  the  bones  would  have  suf- 


344  LONDON 

ficed  to  preserve  the  chapel.  But  no.  It  was  in  the 
reign  of  Edward  the  Sixth,  when  everything  was  de- 
stroyed. The  Duke  of  Somerset  pulled  down  the 
chapel.  The  bones  he  caused  to  be  placed  in  carts — 
they  made  a  thousand  loads — and  to  be  carried  to 
Finsbury  Fields,  where  they  were  thrown  out  and 
strewn  around — a  pitiful  spectacle.  Beside  the  Char- 
nel  Chapel  was  the  Chapel  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  served 
by  the  seven  chaplains  of  Holme's  College,  on  the 
south  side  of  the  church -yard.  That,  too,  was  de- 
stroyed. But  most  of  all  I  lament  the  destruction  of 
the  Pardon  Church-yard.  Truly  this  was  one  of  the 
wonders  of  London.  There  stands  the  plot  of  ground, 
a  garden  now  for  the  minor  canons,  but  formerly  a 
cloister  wherein  were  buried  many  persons  of  worship, 
and  some  of  honor,  whose  monuments  were  of  curious 
workmanship.  Round  the  cloister  was  painted  a 
dance  of  death,  commonly  called  the  Dance  of  Paul's, 
with  verses  by  John  Lydgate,  done  at  the  dispense  of 
John  Carpenter.  Over  the  east  quadrant  was  a  fair 
library,  given  by  Walter  Sherrington,  chancellor  to 
Henry  the  Sixth ;  and  in  the  cloister  was  a  chapel, 
built  by  the  father  of  Thomas  a  Becket,  who  lay 
buried  there.  Of  such  antiquity  was  this  beautiful 
and  venerable  place.  Neither  its  age  nor  its  beauty 
could  save  it.  Nor  could  the  lesson  concerning  the 
presence  of  death,  in  this  lively  portraiture,  save  it. 
Down  it  must  come,  and  now  there  remains  but  two 
or  three  old  men  like  myself  who  can  remember  the 
Dance  of  Paul's.  Well,  the  figure  of  death  is  gone, 
but  death  himself  we  cannot  drive  away.  There  is 
Paul's  Cross."  He  pointed  to  an  edifice  at  the  north- 
east angle  of  the  transept. 


TUDOR  345 

I  looked  with  curiosity  at  this  historical  edifice, 
which  was  smaller,  as  all  historical  things  are,  than 
one  expected.  It  was  made  of  timber,  mounted  upon 
steps  of  stone,  and  covered  with  lead.  There  was 
room  in  it  for  three  or  four  persons ;  a  low  wall  was 
built  round  it.  A  venerable  man  was  preaching  to  a 
small  congregation,  who  sat  on  wooden  benches  to 
listen. 

"  What  things  have  not  been  heard,"  said  Stow,  "  at 
Paul's  Cross  ?  Here  were  the  folk  motes  of  old,  when 
the  people  were  called  by  the  great  bell  to  attend 
their  parliament,  and  take  counsel  together.  No 
Common  Council  then,  my  masters,  but  every  man 
his  freedom  of  speech,  and  his  vote.  Paul's  Cross  it 
was  which  made  the  Reformation.  Here  have  I  heard 
Latimer,  Ridley,  Coverdale,  Lever,  and  I  know  not 
whom  besides.  Here  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes  the 
Bexley  Rood  shown,  with  all  the  tricks  whereby  it 
was  made  to  open  its  eyes  and  lips  and  seem  to  speak. 
All  the  Reformation  was  accomplished  from  this 
Cross.  For  a  king  may  set  up  a  bishop,  and  proclaim 
a  doctrine,  but  the  people's  hearts  must  be  moved  be- 
fore their  minds  are  changed.  Think  what  a  change 
was  made  in  their  minds  in  a  few  short  years !  Mass- 
es for  the  dead,  purgatory,  intercession  of  saints,  good 
works,  submission  to  the  Church,  all  gone — all  swept 
away.  And  to  think  that  I  survive,  who  was  brought 
up  in  the  ancient  faith,  and  have  witnessed  this  great 
revolution  in  the  minds  of  men.  For  now  they  no 
longer  even  remember  their  ancient  faith,  save  as  the 
creed  of  those  who  lit  the  accursed  flame  of  Smith- 
field,  and  still  light  the  flames  of  Madrid.  Let  us  go 
into  the  church,"  he  said.  "  But  first  remember,  when 


346  LONDON 

you  look  round,  that  in  the  old  days  the  chapels  in 
the  aisles  were  always  bright  with  the  burning  of  wax 
candles — a  superstition,  because  the  burning  of  a  can- 
dle is  a  fond  thing  to  save  a  man's  soul  withal.  Also, 
in  every  chapel,  all  day  long,  there  was  the  saying  of 
masses  for  the  dead — another  fond  superstition — as  if 
a  man's  soul  is  to  be  saved  by  the  repetition  of  Latin 
prayers  by  another  man.  Yet,  with  these  things  the 
Church  fulfilled  its  purpose.  Now  there  are  no  more 
masses ;  and  the  chapels  are  empty  and  silent,  their 
altars  are  removed,  the  paintings  are  defaced,  and  the 
Church  is  given  over  for  worldly  things.  Come  in." 

We  entered  by  the  north  transept. 

There  was  much  that  astonished  me  in  this  walk 
through  London  of  the  year  1603,  but  nothing  so  sur- 
prising and  unexpected  as  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  I  had 
pictured  a  church  narrow,  long,  somewhat  low  and 
dark.  I  found,  on  the  other  hand,  that  it  was  in  every 
respect  a  most  noble  church,  longer  than  any  other 
cathedral  I  had  ever  seen,  loftier,  also,  and  well  light- 
ed in  every  part,  the  style  grand  and  simple.  Con- 
sider, therefore,  my  astonishment  at  finding  the  church 
desecrated  and  abandoned  like  the  common  streets 
for  the  general  uses  of  the  people.  The  choir  alone, 
where  the  old  screen  still  stood,  was  reserved  for  pur- 
poses of  worship,  for  there  was  a  public  thoroughfare 
through  the  transepts  and  across  the  church.  Men 
tramped  through,  carrying  baskets  of  meat  or  of  bread, 
sacks  of  coal,  bundles,  bags,  and  parcels  of  all  kinds, 
walking  as  in  the  streets,  turning  neither  to  right  nor 
left.  Hucksters  and  peddlers  not  only  walked  through, 
but  lingered  on  their  way  to  sell  their  wares.  Serv- 
ants stood  and  sat  about  a  certain  pillar  to  be  hired  ; 


DR.  SHAW   PREACHING  AT  ST.   PAUL'S  CROSS 


TUDOR  349 

scriveners  sat  about  another  pillar  writing  letters  for 
those  who  required  their  services  ;  clergymen  in  quest 
of  a  curacy  or  vicarage  gathered  at  another  pillar. 
"  Remember  the  verses,"  said  Stow  : 

'"Who  wants  a  churchman  that  can  service  say, 
Read  first  and  faire  his  monthlie  homilie, 
And  wed  and  bury  and  make  Christian  soules? 
Come  to  the  left  side  alley  of  St.  Paul's.' 

"  The  poor  clergymen,"  he  went  on,  "  have  fallen 
upon  evil  times;  there  is  not  preferment  enough  for 
all  of  them,  and  many  of  the  country  parishes  are  too 
poor  to  keep  a  man,  even  though  he  live  more  hardly 
than  a  yeoman.  ' 

"  This,"  he  added,  "  is  an  exchange  where  almost  as 
much  business  is  done  as  at  Sir  Thomas  Gresham's 
Burse,  but  of  another  kind.  Here  are  houses  bought 
and  sold ;  here  is  money  lent  on  usury ;  here  are  con- 
spiracies hatched,  villanies  resolved  upon  ;  here  is  the 
honor  of  women  bought  and  sold  ;  here,  if  a  man 
wants  a  handful  of  desperadoes  for  the  Spanish  Main, 
he  may  buy  them  cheap — look  at  those  men  standing 
by  the  tomb  that  they  call  Duke  Humphrey's." 

They  were  three  tall,  lean  fellows,  each  with  a  long 
rapier  and  a  worn  doublet  and  a  hungry  face.  Only 
to  look  upon  them  made  one  think  of  John  Oxenham 
and  his  companions. 

"  These  men  should  be  taking  of  Panama  or  Guay- 
aquil," said  Stow.  "  The  time  grows  too  peaceful  for 
such  as  those.  But  see,  this  is  Paul's  Walk ;  this  is 
the  Mediterranean." 

The  long  middle  aisle  was  crowded  with  a  throng 
of  men  walking  to  and  fro,  some  alone,  some  two  or 


350  LONDON 

three  together.  Some  of  them  were  merchants  or 
retailers,  some  were  countrymen  looking  about  them 
and  crying  out  for  the  loftiness  of  the  roof  and  gran- 
deur of  the  church.  But  many  were  young  gallants, 
and  those  were  evidently  come  to  show  the  splendor 
of  their  dress  and  to  mark  and  follow  the  newest  fash- 
ions, which,  like  women,  they  learned  from  each  other. 
"  These  lads,"  said  Stow,  again  echoing  my  thoughts, 
"  were  also  better  on  board  a  stout  ship  bound  for  the 
West  Indies  than  at  home  spending  their  fortunes 
on  their  backs,  and  their  time  in  pranking  before  the 
other  gallants.  Yet  they  are  young.  Folly  sits  well  on 
the  young.  In  youth  we  love  a  brave  show,  if  only 
to  please  the  maidens.  Let  us  not,  like  the  sour 
preacher,  cry  out  upon  a  young  man  because  he  glo- 
rifies his  body  by  fine  raiment.  To  such  a  jagg'd  and 
embroidered  sleeve  is  as  bad  as  the  sound  of  pipe  and 
tabor  or  the  sight  of  a  playhouse.  Let  them  preach. 
For  all  their  preaching  our  gallants  will  still  be  fine. 
It  is  so  long  since  I  was  young  that  I  have  well-nigh 
forgotten  the  feeling  of  youth.  It  is  now  their  time. 
For  them  the  fine  fashions;  for  them  the  feasting; 
for  them  the  love-making;  for  us  to  look  on  and  to 
remember.  At  the  mutability  of  the  fashion  we  may 
laugh,  for  there  is  no  sense  in  it,  but  only  folly.  To- 
day the  high  Alman  fashion ;  to-morrow  the  Spanish 
guise ;  the  day  after,  the  French.  See  with  what  an 
air  they  walk ;  head  thrown  back,  hand  on  hip,  leg 
advanced.  Saw  one  ever  gallants  braver  or  more 
splendid  ?  No  two  alike,  but  each  arrayed  in  his  own 
fashion  as  seemeth  him  best,  though  each  would  have 
the  highest  ruff  and  the  longest  rapier.  And  look  at 
their  heads — as  many  fashions  with  their  hair  as  with 


TUDOR  351 

their  cloak  and  doublet.  One  is  polled  short ;  one 
has  curls ;  another,  long  locks  down  to  his  shoulders. 
And  some  shave  their  chins ;  some  have  long  beards, 
and  some  short  beards.  Some  wear  ear-rings,  and 
have  love-locks.  Why  not,  good  sir?  Bones  a'  me! 
Plenty  of  time  to  save  and  hoard  when  we  grow  old. 
The  world  and  the  play  of  the  world  belong  to  the 
young.  Let  them  enjoy  the  good  things  while  they 
can." 

While  we  were  talking  in  this  manner  the  clock 
struck  the  hour  of  eleven.  ,  Instantly  there  was  a  gen- 
eral movement  towards  the  doors,  and  before  the  last 
stroke  had  finished  ringing  and  echoing  in  the  roof 
the  church  was  empty,  save  for  a  few  who  still  lin- 
gered and  looked  at  each  other  disconsolately. 

"  It  is  the  dinner-hour,"  said  Stow. 

"Then,"  said  I,  "lead  me  to  some  tavern  where  we 
may  dine  at  our  ease." 

"  There  are  many  such  taverns  close  to  Paul's,"  he 
replied.  "The  Three  Tuns  in  Newgate,  the  Boar's 
Head  by  London  Stone,  the  Ship  at  the  Exchange, 
the  Mermaid  in  Cornhill,  or  the  Mitre  of  Chepe.  But 
of  late  my  dinners  have  been  small  things,  and  I  know 
not,  what  any  town  gallant  could  tell  you,  where  to 
go  for  the  best  burnt  sack  or  for  sound  Rhenish." 

"  The  Mitre,  then,  on  the  chance." 

This  tavern,  a  gabled  house,  stood  at  the  end  of  a 
passage  leading  from  Cheapside,  near  the  corner  of 
Bread  Street.  The  long  room  spread  for  dinner  was 
two  steps  lower  than  the  street,  and  not  too  well 
lighted.  A  narrow  table  ran  down  the  middle ;  upon 
it  was  spread  a  fair  white  cloth;  a  clean  napkin  lay 
for  every  guest,  and  a  knife.  The  table  was  already 


352  LONDON 

filled.  Loaves  of  bread  were  placed  at  intervals; 
they  were  of  various  shapes,  round  and  square ;  salt 
was  also  placed  at  regular  intervals.  When  we  en- 
tered, the  company  stood  up  politely  till  we  had  found 
seats.  Then  all  sat  down  again. 

We  took  our  seats  in  a  corner,  whence  we  could 
observe  the  company.  Stow  whispered  in  my  ear 
that  this  was  a  shilling  ordinary,  and  one  of  the  best 
in  London,  as  was  proved  by  the  number  of  guests. 
"  Your  city  gallant,"  he  said,  "  scents  his  dinner  like  a 
hound,  and  is  never  at  fault.  We  shall  dine  well." 

We  did  dine  well ;  the  boys  brought  us  first  roast 
beef  with  peas  and  buttered  beans.  "  This,"  said  the 
old  man,  "  is  well  —  everything  in  season.  At  mid- 
summer, beef  and  beans;  at*  Michaelmas,  fresh  her- 
rings; at  All  Saints,  pork  and  souse,  sprats  and  spur- 
lings  ;  in  Lent,  parsnips  and  leeks,  to  soften  the 
saltness  of  the  fish  ;  at  Easter,  veal  and  bacon,  or  at 
least  gammon  of  bacon,  and  tansy  cake  with  stained 
eggs ;  at  Martinmas,  salt  beef.  Let  old  customs  be 
still  maintained.  Methinks  we  are  back  in  the  days 
of  bluff  King  Hal.  Well,  London  was  ever  a  city  of 
plenty.  Even  the  craftsman  sits  down  to  his  brown- 
bread  and  bacon  and  his  ale.  Harry,  bring  me  a  tank- 
ard of  March  beer — and  another  dish  of  beef,  tell  the 
carver." 

After  the  beef,  we  were  served  with  roast  capons 
and  ducks.  The  absence  of  forks  was  partly  made  up 
by  the  use  of  bread,  and  no  one  scrupled  to  take  the 
bones  and  suck  them  or  even  crunch  them.  But  there 
was  so  much  politeness  and  so  many  compliments 
passing  from  one  to  the  other,  that  those  small  points 
passed  almost  unnoticed,  even  by  my  unaccustomed 


TUDOR  355 

eyes.  One  quickly  learns  to  think  more  of  the  people 
than  of  their  ways  in  little  things.  Apart  from  their 
bravery  in  dress  and  their  habit  of  compliment,  I  was 
struck  with  the  cheerfulness  and  confidence,  even  the 
extravagance,  of  their  talk.  Their  manner  was  that  of 
the  soldier,  sanguine,  confident,  and  rather  loud.  Some 
there  were  who  looked  ready  to  ruffle  and  to  swagger. 

The  capon  was  followed  by  a  course  of  cakes  and 
fruit.  Especially,  the  confection  known  as  march- 
pane, in  which  the  explorer  lights  upon  filberts,  al- 
monds, and  pistachio  nuts,  buried  in  sugared  cake,  hath 
left  a  pleasing  memory  in  my  mind. 

Dinner  over,  the  old  man,  my  guide,  offered  no  op- 
position to  a  flask  of  wine,  which  was  brought  in  a 
glass  measure  with  sugar  thrown  in. 

"  For  choice,"  he  said,  "  give  me  malmsey  full  and 
fine,  sweetened  with  sugar.  Your  French  wines  are 
too  thin  for  my  .old  blood.  Boy,  bring  a  clean  pipe 
and  tobacco." 

By  this  time  almost  every  man  in  the  room  was 
smoking,  though  some  contented  themselves  with 
their  snuff-boxes.  The  tables  were  cleared,  the  boys 
ran  about  setting  before  every  man  his  cup  of  wine 
and  taking  the  reckoning. 

Tobacco,  the  old  man  said,  though  introduced  so 
recently,  had  already  spread  over  the  whole  country, 
so  that  most  men  and  many  women  took  their  pipe 
of  tobacco  every  day  with  as  much  regularity  as  their 
cup  of  wine  or  tankard  of  ale.  So  widespread  was 
now  the  practice  that  many  hundreds  made  a  liveli- 
hood in  London  alone  by  the  retailing  of  this  herb. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  when  his  pipe  was  reduced  to 
ashes, "  let  us  across  the  river  and  see  the  play  at  the 


356  LONDON 

Globe.  The  time  serves ;  we  shall  be  in  the  house 
before  the  second  flourish." 

There  was  a  theatre,  he  told  me  on  the  way,  easier 
of  access  among  the  ruins  of  the  Dominicans',  or 
Black  Friars',  Abbey,  but  that  was  closed  for  the  mo- 
ment. "  We  shall  learn,"  he  added,  "  the  piece  that  is 
to  be  played  from  the  posts  of  Queenhithe,  where  we 
take  oars."  In  fact,  we  found  the  posts  at  that  port 
placarded  with  small  bills,  announcing  the  perform- 
ance of  "  Troilus  and  Cressida." 

Bank  Side  consisted,  I  found,  of  a  single  row  of 
houses,  built  on  a  dike,  or  levee,  higher  both  than 
the  river  at  high  tide  and  the  ground  behind  the 
bank.  Before  the  building  of  the  bank  this  must 
have  been  a  swamp  covered  with  water  at  every  tide ; 
it  was  now  laid  out  in  fields,  meadows,  and  gardens. 
At  one  end  of  Bank  Side  stood  the  Clink  Prison, 
Winchester  House,  and  St.  Mary  Overies  Church. 
At  the  other  end  was  the  Falcon  Tavern,  with  its 
stairs,  and  behind  it  was  the  Paris  Gardens. 

The  fields  were  planted  with  many  noble  trees,  and 
in  every  one  there  was  a  pond  or  stagnant  ditch  which 
showed  the  nature  of  the  ground.  A  little  to  the 
west  of  the  Clink  and  behind  the  houses  stood  the 
Globe  Theatre,  and  close  beside  it  the  "  Bull-baiting." 
The  theatre,  erected  in  the  year  1593,  was  hexagonal 
externally.  It  was  open  in  the  middle,  but  the  stage 
and  the  galleries  within  were  covered  over  with  a 
thatched  roof.  Over  the  door  was  the  sign  of  the 
house  —  Hercules  supporting  the  globe,  with  the  le- 
gend, "  Totus  mundus  agit  histrionem" 

The  interior  of  the  theatre  was  circular  in  shape. 
It  contained  three  galleries,  one  above  the  other ;  the 


TUDOR  357 

lowest  called  the  "  rooms,"  for  seats  in  which  we  paid 
a  shilling  each,  contained  the  better  sorts.  At  each 
side  of  the  stage  there  were  boxes,  one  of  which  con- 
tained the  music.  The  stage  itself,  a  stout  construc- 
tion of  timber,  projected  far  into  the  pit,  or,  as  Stow 


GLOBE   THEATRE 


called  it,  the  "yarde."  At  the  back  was  another 
stage,  supported  on  two  columns,  and  giving  the 
players  a  gallery  about  ten  or  twelve  feet  high,  the 
purpose  of  which  we  were  very  soon  to  find  out.  On 
each  side  of  the  stage  were  seats  for  those  who  paid 
an  additional  sixpence.  Here  were  a  dozen  or  twenty 
gallants,  either  with  pipes  of  tobacco,  or  playing  cards 
or  dice  before  the  play  began.  One  of  them  would 
get  up  quickly  with  a  pretence  of  impatience,  and 
push  back  his  cloak  so  as  to  show  the  richness  of  his 
doublet  below.  The  young  men,  whether  at  the  the- 
atre, or  in  Paul's  Walk,  or  in  Chepe,  seemed  all  intent 
upon  showing  their  bravery  of  attire  ;  no  girls  of  our 
day  could  be  more  vain  of  their  dress,  or  more  critical 
of  the  dress  worn  by  others.  Some  of  them,  however, 
I  perceived  among  the  groundlings — that  is,  the  peo- 
ple in  the  "  yarde  " — gazing  about  the  house  upon 


358  LONDON 

the  women  in  the  galleries.  Here  there  were  many 
dressed  very  finely,  like  ladies  of  quality,  in  satin 
gowns,  lawn  aprons,  taffeta  petticoats,  and  gold  threads 
in  their  hair.  They  seemed  to  rejoice  in  being  thus 
observed  and  gazed  upon.  When  a  young  man  had 
found  a  girl  to  his  taste,  he  went  into  the  gallery,  sat 
beside  her,  and  treated  her  to  pippins,  nuts,  or  wine. 

It  was  already  one  o'clock  when  we  arrived.  As  we 
took  our  seats  the  music  played  its  first  sounding  or 
flourish.  There  was  a  great  hubbub  in  the  place  : 
hucksters  went  about  with  baskets  crying  pippins, 
nuts,  and  ale;  in  the  "rooms"  book-sellers'  boys  hawk- 
ed about  new  books;  everybody  was  talking  together; 
everywhere  the  people  were  smoking  tobacco,  playing 
cards,  throwing  dice,  cheapening  books,  cracking  nuts, 
and  calling  for  ale.  The  music  played  a  second  sound- 
ing. The  hubbub  continued  unabated.  Then  it  played 
the  third  and  last.  Suddenly  the  tumult  ceased.  The 
piece  was  about  to  begin. 

.  The  stage  was  decorated  with  blue  hangings  of  silk 
between  the  columns,  showing  that  the  piece  was  to 
be — in  part,  at  least — a  comedy.  Across  the  raised 
gallery  at  the  back  was  stretched  a  painted  canvas 
representing  a  royal  palace.  When  the  scene  was 
changed  this  canvas  became  the  wall  of  a  city,  and  the 
actors  would  walk-on  the  top  of  the  wall;  or  a  street 
with  houses ;  or  a  tavern  with  it  red  lattice  and  its 
sign ;  or  a  tented  field.  When  night  was  intended, 
the  blue  hangings  were  drawn  up  and  exchanged  for 
black. 

The  hawkers  retired  and  were  quiet ;  the  house  set- 
tled down  to  listen,  and  the  Prologue  began.  Prologue 
appeared  dressed  in  a  long  black  velvet  cloak  ;  he  as- 


TUDOR 


359 


sumed  a  diffident  and  most  respectful  manner ;  he 
bowed  to  the  ground. 

"  In  Troy  there  lies  the  scene.     From  isles  of  Greece, 
The  princes  orgulous,  their  high  blood  chaf'd, 
Have  to  the  port  of  Athens  sent  their  ships." 

In  this  way  the  mind  of  the  audience  was  prepared 
for  what  was  to  follow.  We  needed  no  play-bill.  The 
palace  before  us  could  be  no  other  than  Priam's  Palace. 


INSIDE  OF  THE  RED   BULL   PLAYHOUSE 


360  LONDON 

If  there  was  a  field  with  tents,  it  must  be  the  battle- 
field and  the  camp  of  the  Greeks ;  if  there  was  a  wall, 
it  must  be  the  wall  of  Troy.  And  though  the  scenery 
was  rough,  it  was  enough.  One  wants  no  more  than 
the  unmistakable  suggestion  ;  the  poet  and  the  actor 
find  the  rest.  Therefore,  though  the  intrusive  gallants 
lay  on  the  stage  ;  though  Troilus  was  dressed  in  the 
armor  of  Tudor-time,  and  Pandarus  wore  just  such  a 
doublet  as  old  Stow  himself,  we  were  actually  at  Troy. 
The  boy  w^ho  played  Cressida  was  a  lovely  maiden. 
The  narrow  stage  was  large  enough  for  the  Council  of 
Kings,  the  wooing  of  lovers,  and  the  battle-field  of 
heroes.  Women  unfaithful  and  perjured,  lovers  trust- 
ful, warriors  fierce,  the  alarms  of  war,  fighting  and 
slaying,  the  sweet  whispers  of  love  drowned  by  the 
blare  of  trumpets  ;  the  loss  of  lover  forgotten  in  the 
loss  of  a  great  captain ;  and  among  the  warriors  and 
the  kings  and  the  lovers,  the  creeping  creatures  who 
live  upon  the  weaknesses  and  the  sins  of  their  betters, 
played  their  parts  upon  these  narrow  boards  before  a 
silent  and  enraptured  house.  For  three  hours  we 
were  kept  out  of  our  senses.  There  was  no  need,  I 
say,  of  better  scenery ;  a  quick  shifting  of  the  canvas 
showed  a  battle-field  and  turned  the  stage  into  a  vast 
plain  covered  with  armies  of  Greeks  and  Romans. 
Soldiers  innumerable,  as  thick  as  motes  in  the  sun, 
crossed  the  stage  fighting,  shouting,  challenging  each 
other.  While  they  fought,  the  trumpets  blew  and  the 
drums  beat,  the  wounded  fell,  and  the  fight  continued 
over  these  prostrate  bodies  till  they  were  carried  off 
by  their  friends.  The  chiefs  rushed  to  the  front,  crossed 
swords,  and  rushed  off  again.  "Come,  both  you  cog- 
ging Greeks!"  said  Troilus,  while  our  cheeks  flushed 


TUDOR  361 

and  our  lips  parted.  If  the  stage  had  been  four  times 
as  broad,  if  the  number  of  men  in  action  had  been 
multiplied  by  ten,  we  could  not  have  felt  more  vividly 
the  rage,  the  joy,  the  madness  of  the  battle. 

When  the  play  was  finished,  the  ale,  the  apples,  and 
the  nuts  were  passed  round,  and  the  noise  began  again. 
Then  the  clown  came  in  and  began  to  sing,  and  the 
music  played — but  oh,  how  poor  it  seemed  after  the 
great  emotions  of  the  play  !  The  old  man  plucked  me 
by  the  sleeve,  and  we  went  out,  and  with  us  most  of 
the  better  sort. 

"  The  first  plays,"  said  the  antiquary,  "  that  ever  I 
saw  were  those  that  were  played  on  stages  put  up  in 
the  court-yards  of  inns,  where  the  galleries  afforded 
place  for  the  audience,  and  the  stage  was  made  of 
boards  laid  upon  trestles.  Tarleton  used  to  play  at 
the  Bull  Inn,  Bishopsgate,  and  at  the  Cross  Keys, 
Grasse  Street.  He  was  reckoned  a  famous  player,  yet, 
compared  with  those  we  have  seen  this  day,  a  fustian 
mouther,  no  doubt.  Rude  plays  they  were,  and  rude 
players  ;  but  I  dare  say  they  moved  the  spectators  as 

much  as  this  fine  theatre." 

/ 

Not  far  from  the  Globe  stood  another  building  of 
circular  form  ;  a  throng  of  people  pressed  about  the 
doors,  and  a  great  noise  of  barking  and  shouting  came 
from  within.  "  It  is  the  Bull-baiting,"  said  my  guide. 
"  But  the  place  is  full  of  rough  men,  whose  wrath  is 
easily  moved,  and  then  out  come  knives  and  there  is 
a  tumult.  I  am  too  old  for  such  things.  Neverthe- 
less, it  is  a  noble  sport ;  and  when  you  come  to  whip- 
ping the  blinded  bear,  who  lately  broke  away  and  bit 
a  piece  out  of  a  man's  thigh,  it  passes  all."  He  lin- 
gered as  if  he  would  join  in  it  once  more  with  a  little 


362  LONDON 

encouragement.  Finding  none,  he  walked  slowly  away 
to  the  river-bank. 

"This  place,"  said  Stow,  "hath  an  ill  name,  by  rea- 
son of  evil-doers,  who  were  long  permitted  to  live  here 
— a  place  notorious  for  three  hundred  years  as  the 
common  sink  of  the  city.  No  reputable  citizen  would 
have  his  country-house  and  garden  on  Bank  Side. 
Why,  there  are  private  gardens  all  round  London  as 
far  north  as  Islington,  and  as  far  east  as  Ratcliffe  Cross, 
but  none  here.  The  air  is  fresh  and  wholesome  com- 
ing up  the  river,  the  ground  fertile :  see  the  trees  and 
hedges  how  they  flourish ;  yet  there  is  never  a  private 
garden  in  the  place.  For  this  reason  the  bull-baiting 
was  here,  and  Paris  Gardens  with  its  bears — an'  it  were 
Sunday,  I  would  show  you  the  bears  —  old  Harry 
Hunks  and  Sackerson.  For  this  reason  Was  the  Globe 
built  here,  without  the  city  precincts.  Where  are  the 
theatres  and  the  baitings,  the  musicians  and  the  shows, 
thither  must  gather  together  the  poets,  singers,  mum- 
mers, and  all  those  who  live  by  ministering  to  the 
merriment  and  pleasure  of  the  world.  A  company 
of  keen  wits  they  are,  their  tongues  readier  than  most, 
and  their  talk  bolder.  Sober  merchants,  who  think 
more  of  the  matter  and  less  of  the  manner,  like  not 
such  company."  Here  the  tinkling  of  a  guitar,  fol- 
lowed by  a  burst  of  laughter,  interrupted  the  discourse. 
"  I  doubt  not,"  said  Stow,  "  that  we  have  here — 'tis  the 
Falcon  Tavern — a  company  of  wits  and  poets  and 
players.  Let  us  tarry  but  the  drinking  of  a  single 
flask.  It  may  be,  unless  their  tongues  are  more  free 
than  is  seemly,  that  we  shall  be  rewarded." 

The  Falcon  Inn  stood  at  the  western  end  of  Bank 
Side,  at  the  head  of  the  Falcon  stairs.  In  front  a 


TUDOR 


363 


small  garden  stretched  out 
towards    the    river. 
Part  of  the  garden  was 
an  arbor,  formed  by  a 
vine  raised  on    poles, 
so  as  to  form   a  roof 
of  leaves.    Here  was 

^-^F^=Qj 

SJ|^.   i,    a  table  placed,  and 
round  the  table  a 
company  of  ten 


or  a  dozen.  '---- 
At  the  head  of 
the  table  was  a  young  gen- 
tleman richly  dressed.  Be- 
hind him  stood  two  servants. 
At  his  right  sat  a  man  of 
about  thirty,  of  large  frame 
and  already  corpulent,  his 
brown  hair  short  and 
curly,  his  beard  cut 
short,  his  eyes  singu- 
larly bright. 

"Tis  Ben  Jonson," 
whispered  Stow.  "  Let 


SOUTH  VIEW  OF  FALCON  TAVERN,  ON  THE 
BANK  SIDE,  SOUTHWARK,  AS  IT  AP- 
PEARED IN  1805 


364  LONDON 

us  sit  here,  without  the  arbor,  so  that  we  can  drink  and 
listen.  Ben  is  but  lately  out  of  prison,  where  he  was 
cast  for  writing  reflections  on  the  Scottish  nation. 
'Twas  said  that  he  would  lose  his  ears  and  have  Jiis 
nose  slit,  but  the  King  showed  mercy.  He  at  the 
head  of  the  table  is  some  young  nobleman,  patron  of 
poets,  but,  alas!  I  live  now  so  retired  that  I  know 
not  his  name.  On  the  left  of  him  is  William  Shakes- 
peare, whom  some  think  a  better  poet  than  Ben — a 
quiet  man  who  says  little.  I  have  seen  him  here  be- 
fore. 'Twas  he  wrote  the  piece  we  have  seen  this  day. 
He  has  a  share  in  the  theatre  of  Blackfriars.  Burbage, 
the  actor,  sits  next  to  Shakespeare,  and  then  Alleyn 
and  Hemying  opposite,  and  Henslowe.  And  there  is 
John  Marston,  another  poet." 

Alleyn  it  was  who  held  the  guitar.  At  this  time  he 
was  in  the  prime  of  life,  not  yet  forty,  his  face  full  of 
mobility  and  quickness.  He  ran  his  fingers  carelessly 
over  the  notes,  and  then  began  to  sing  in  a  clear,  high 
voice : 


"  'Twas  I  that  paid  for  all  things, 
'Twas  others  drank  the  wine; 
I  cannot  now  recall  things, 
Live  but  a  fool  to  pine. 
Twas  I  that  beat  the  bush, 
The  bird  to  others  flew ! 
For  she,  alas !  for  she,  alas !  hath  left  me, 
Falero — lero — loo  ! 

"  If  ever  that  Dame  Nature 
(For  this  false  lover's  sake) 
Another  pleasant  creature 
Like  unto  her  would  make, 


TUDOR  365 

Let  her  remember  this, 

To  make  the  other  twice ! 

For  this,  alas !  for  this,  alas !  hath  left  me. 

Falero — lero — loo  ! 

'  No  riches  now  can  raise  me, 
No  want  make  me  despair ; 
No  misery  amaze  me, 
Nor  yet  for  want  I  care. 
I  have  lost  a  World  itself; 
My  earthly  Heaven,  adieu  ! 
Since  she,  alas !  since  she,  alas !  hath  left  me. 
Falero — lero — loo  !" 


"  Sir,"  said  the  young  gentleman,  "  'tis  an  excellent 
song  well  sung.  I  drink  your  health." 

This  he  did  rising,  and  very  courteously. 

Now,  in  the  talk  that  followed  I  observed  that, 
while  the  players  amused  by  relating  anecdotes,  Ben 
Jonson  made  laughter  by  what  he  said,  speaking  in 
language  which  belongs  to  scholars  and  to  books,  and 
that  Shakespeare  sat  for  the  most  part  in  silence,  yet 
not  in  the  silence  of  a  blockhead  in  the  presence  of 
wits,  and  when  he  spoke  it  was  to  the  purpose.  Also 
I  remarked  that  the  guitar  passed  from  hand  to  hand, 
and  that  everybody  could  play  and  sing,  and  that  the 
boldness  of  the  talk  showed  the  freedom  of  their 
minds.  Who  can  repeat  the  unrestrained  conversa- 
tion of  a  tavern  company  ?  Nay,  since  some  of  them 
were  more  than  merry  with  the  wine,  it  would  be  an 
ill  turn  to  set  down  what  they  said.  We  drank  our 
cups  and  listened  to  the  talk. 

Presently  Ben  Jonson  himself  sang  one  of  his  own 
songs,  in  a  rough  but  not  unmelodious  voice: 


366  LONDON 

"  Follow  a  shadow,  it  still  flies  you ; 
Seem  to  fly  it,  it  will  pursue. 
So  court  a  mistress,  she  denies  you ; 
Let  her  alone — she  will  court  you. 
Say,  are  not  women  truly,  then, 
Styled  but  the  shadows  of  us  men  ? 

"  At  morn  or  even  shades  are  longest, 
At  noon  they  are  or  short  or  none ; 
So  men  at  weakest,  they  are  strongest, 
But  grant  us  perfect,  they're  not  known. 
Say,  are  not  women  truly,  then, 
Styled  but  the  shadows  of  the  men  ?"  y 

We  came  away  about  sunset,  or  near  half-past  eight 
in  the  evening.  Some  of  the  company  were  by  this 
time  merry  with  their  wine,  and  as  we  rose  one  began 
to  bawl  an  old  tavern  ditty,  drumming  on  the  wood 
of  the  guitar  with  his  knuckles : 

"  There  was  a  Ewe  had  three  lambs, 
And  one  of  them  was  blacke ; 
There  was  a  man  had  three  sons — 
Jeffrey,  James,  and  Jack. 

"  The  one  was  hanged,  the  other  drown 'd ; 
The  third  was  lost  and  never  found ; 
The  old  man  he  fell  in  a  sound — 
Come  fill  us  a  cup  of  Sacke." 

It  was  nearly  high  tide  on  the  river,  which  spread 
itself  out  full  and  broad  between  the  banks,  reflecting 
the  evening  glow  in  the  western  sky.  Numberless 
swans  floated  about  the  stream.  It  was  also  covered 
with  boats.  Some  were  state  barges  belonging  to 
great  people,  with  awnings  and  curtains,  painted  and 
gilt,  filled  with  ladies  who  sang  as  the  boat  floated 


TUDOR  367 

quietly  with  the  current  to  the  music  of  guitars. 
Others  were  the  cockle-shell  of  humble  folk.  Here 
was  the  prentice,  taking  his  sweetheart  out  upon  the 
river  for  the  freshness  of  the  evening  air ;  here  the 
citizen,  with  his  wife  and  children  in  a  wherry ;  here 
the  tilt -boat,  with  its  load  of  passengers  coming  up 
from  Greenwich  to  Westminster.  There  were  also 
the  barges  and  lighters  laden  with  hay,  wool,  and 
grain,  waiting  for  the  tide  to  turn  in  order  to  unload 
at  Queenhithe  or  Billingsgate. 

"  This,"  said  Stow,  "  is  the  best  place  of  any  for  a 
prospect  of  the  city.  Here  we  can  count  the  spires 
and  the  towers.  I  know  them  every  one.  Look  how 
Paul's  rises  above  the  houses.  His  walls  are  a  hun- 
dred feet  high.  His  tower  that  you  see  is  near  three 
hundred  feet  high,  and  his  spire,  which  has  been 
burned  down  these  forty  years,  was  two  hundred  feet 
more.  Alas,  that  goodly  spire!  It  is  only  from  this 
bank  that  you  can  see  the  great  houses  along  the 
river.  There  the  ruins  of  White  Friars — there  those 
of  the  Dominicans.  Ruins  were  they  not,  but  splendid 
buildings  in  the  days  of  my  youth.  Baynard's  Castle, 
the  Steel  Yard,  Cold  Harbor,  the  Bridge — there  they 
stand.'  The  famous  city  of  Venice  itself,  I  dare  swear, 
cannot  show  so  fair  a  prospect.  See,  now  the  sun 
lights  up  the  windows  of  Nonesuch  on  the  Bridge — 
see  how  the  noble  structure  is  reflected  in  the  water 
below.  Good  sir,"  he  turned  to  me  with  glowing  face 
and  eyes  aflame  with  enthusiasm,  "  there  is  no  other 
city  in  the  whole  world,  believe  me,  which  may  com- 
pare with  this  noble  City  of  London,  of  which — glory 
to  God ! — I  have  been  permitted  to  become  the  hum- 
ble historian." 


368  LONDON 

We  took  boat  at  Falcon  stairs — Stow  told  me  there 
were  two  thousand  boats  and  three  thousand  water- 
men on  the  river — and  we  returned  to  Queenhithe, 
the  watermen  shouting  jokes  and  throwing  strong 
words  at  each  other,  which  seems  to  be  their  custom. 
By  the  time  we  landed  the  sun  had  gone  down. 
Work  for  the  day  was  over,  and  the  streets  were 
thronged  with  people.  First,  however,  it  was  neces- 
sary to  think  of  supper.  My  guide  took  me  to  an  old 
inn  in  Dowgate ;  you  entered  it  as  at  the  Mitre  by  a 
long  passage.  This  was  the  well-known  Swan,  where 
we  found  a  goodly  company  assembled.  They  seemed 
to  be  merchants  all ;  grave  men,  not  given  to  idle 
mirth,  so  that  the  conversation  was  more  dull  (if  more 
seemly)  than  at  the  Falcon.  For  supper  they  served 
us  roast  pullet  with  a  salad  of  lettuce,  very  good,  and 
a  flask  of  right  Canary.  My  ancient  guide  swore — 
"  Bones  a'  me" — that  it  contained  the  very  spirit  and 
essence  of  the  Canary  grape.  "  Sir,"  he  said,  "  can  a 
man  live  in  London  for  eighty  years  and  fail  to  dis- 
cern good  wine  from  bad  ?  Why,  the  city  drinks  up,  I 
believe,  all  the  good  wine  in  the  world.  Amsterdam 
is  built  on  piles  set  in  the  ooze  and  mud.  London 
floats  on  puncheons,  pipes,  and  hogsheads  of  the  best 
and  choicest.  This  is  truly  rare  Canary.  Alas !  I  am 
past  eighty.  I  shall  drink  but  little  more." 

So  he  drank  and  warmed  his  old  heart  and  dis- 
cussed further,  but  it  would  be  idle  to  set  down  all  he 
said,  because  most  of  it  is  in  books,  and  my  desire  has 
been  to  record  only  what  cannot  be  found,  by  the  cu- 
rious, already  printed. 

After  supper  we  had  more  wine  and  tobacco.  Some 
of  the  company  fell -to  card -playing,  some  to  dice. 


TUDOR  369 

Then  the  door  opened,  and  a  man  came  in  with  two 
children,  boys,  who  sang  with  him  while  he  played  the 
guitar.  They  sang  madrigals  very  sweetly,  each  his 
own  part  truly  and  with  justice.  When  they  finished, 
the  boys  went  around  with  a  platter  and  collected 
farthings.  And  having  paid  our  reckoning  we  went 
away. 

In  the  streets  outside,  the  women  sat  at  their  doors 
or  stood  about  gossiping  with  each  other.  At  every 
corner  a  bonfire  was  merrily  burning.  This  was  part- 
ly because  it  was  the  Vigil  of  St.  John  the  Baptist, 
partly  because  in  the  city  they  always  lit  bonfires  in 
the  summer  months  to  purify  and  cleanse  the  air. 
But  because  of  the  day  every  door  was  shadowed  with 
green  branches — birch,  long  fennel,  St.  John's  wort, 
orpin,  white  lilies,  and  such  like — garnished  with  gar- 
lands of  beautiful  flowers.  They  had  also  hung  up 
lamps  of  colored  glass,  with  oil  to  burn  all  the  night, 
so  that  the  streets  looked  gay  and  bright  with  the  red 
light  of  the  bonfires  playing  on  the  tall  gabled  fronts, 
and  the  red  and  green  light  of  the  lamps.  From  all 
the  taverns,  as  we  passed,  came  the  sound  of  music, 
singing,  and  revelry,  with  the  clink  of  glasses  and  the 
uplifting  of  voices  thick  with  wine.  There  was  the 
sound  of  music  and  singing  from  the  private  houses. 
Everywhere  singing — everywhere  joy  and  happiness. 
In  the  streets  the  very  prentices  and  their  sweethearts 
danced,  to  the  pipe  and  tabor,  those  figures  called 
the  Brawl  and  the  Canary,  and  better  dancing,  with 
greater  spirit  and  more  fidelity  to  the  steps,  had  I 
never  before  seen. 

At  last  we  stopped  once  more  before  the  door  of 
John  Stow's  house. 
24 


3/0  LONDON 

"  Sir,"  he  said,  taking  my  hand,  "  the  time  has  come 
to  bid  you  farewell.  It  has  been  a  great  honor — be- 
lieve me — to  converse  with  one  of  a  generation  yet  to 
come,  and  a  great  satisfaction  to  learn  that  my  name 
will  live  so  long  beside  those  of  the  poets  of  this  noble 
age.  Many  things  there  are  into  which  I  would  fain 
have  inquired.  The  looking  into  futurity  is  an  idle 
thing,  yet  I  would  fain  have  asked  if  you  have  put  a 
new  steeple  on  Paul's ;  if  you  still  suffer  the  desecra- 
tion of  that  place ;  if  London  will  spread  still  more 
beyond  her  walls  ;  if  her  trade  will  still  more  increase  ; 
if  the  Spaniard  will  be  always  permitted  to  hold  the 
Continent  of  America ;  if  the  Pope  will  still  be  reign- 
ing ;  with  many  other  things.  But  you  came  this  day 
to  learn,  and  I  to  teach.  When  next  you  come,  suffer 
me  in  turn  to  put  questions.  And  now,  good  sir,  fare- 
well. Behold!"  He  raised  his  hands  in  admiration. 
"  I  have  spent  a  day — a  whole  day — with  a  man  of  the 
nineteenth  century  ! !  Bones  a'  me  ! ! !" 

So  he  went  within  and  shut  the  door. 


VIII 

CHARLES  THE   SECOND 

IT  is  not  proposed  here  to  swell  with  any  new 
groans  the  general  chorus  of  lamentation  over 
the  deplorable  morals  of  King  Charles's  court.  Let 
us  acknowledge  that  we  want  all  the  available  groans 
for  the  deplorable  morals  of  our  own  time.  Let  us 
leave  severely  on  one  side  Whitehall,  with  the  indo- 
lent king :  his  mistresses,  his  singing  boys,  his  gaming- 
tables, his  tinkling  guitars,  his  feasting  and  his  dan- 
cing. We  will  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
Chiffinch  and  'his  friends,  nor  with  Rochester,  nor 
with  Nell  Gwynne,  nor  with  Old  Rowley  himself. 
Therefore,  of  course,  we  can  have  nothing  to  do  with 
Messrs.  Wycherley,  Congreve,  and  company.  It  is,  I 
know,  the  accepted  excuse  for  these  dramatists  that 
their  characters  are  not  men  and  women,  but  puppets. 
To  my  humble  thinking  they  are  not  puppets  at  all, 
but  living  and  actual  human  creatures — portraits  of 
real  men  and  women  who  haunted  Whitehall.  Let 
us  keep  to  the  east  of  Temple  Bar :  hither  come 
whispers,  murmurs,  rumors,  of  sad  doings  at  court : 
sober  and  grim  citizens,  still  touched  with  the  Puritan 
spirit,  speak  of  these  rumors  with  sorrow  and  disap- 


372  LONDON 

pointment;  they  had  hoped  better  things  after  the 
ten  years'  exile,  yet  they  knew  so  little  and  were  al- 
ways ready  to  believe  so  well  of  the  King — and  his 
Majesty  was  always  so  friendly  to  the  City — that  the 
reports  remained  mere  reports.  It  is  really  no  use  to 
keep  a  king  unless  you  are  able  to  persuade  yourself 
that  he  is  wiser,  nobler,  more  virtuous,  braver,  and 
greater  than  ordinary  mortals.  Indeed,  as  the  head 
and  leader  of  the  nation,  he  is  officially  the  wisest, 
noblest,  bravest,  best,  and  greatest  among  us,  and  is 
so  recognized  in  the  Prayer-book.  Even  those  who 
are  about  the  court,  and  therefore  are  so  unhappy  as 
to  be  convinced  of  the  exact  contrary,  do  their  best 
to  keep  up  the  illusion.  The  great  mass  of  mankind 
still  continue  to  believe  that  moral  and  intellectual 
superiority  goes  with  the  crown  and  belongs  to  the 
reigning  sovereign.  The  only  change  that  has  come 
over  nations  living  under  the  monarchic  form  of  gov- 
ernment as  regards  their  view  of  kings  is  that  they 
no  longer  believe  all  this  of  the  reigning  sovereign's 
•predecessor;  as  regards  the  present  occupant  of  the 
throne,  of  course.  Are  the  citizens  of  a  republic  sim- 
ilarly convinced  as  regards  their  President  ? 

The  evil  example  of  the  court,  therefore,  produced 
very  little  effect  upon  the  morals  of  the  City.  At 
first,  indeed,  the  whole  nation,  tired  to  death  of  grave 
faces,  sober  clothes,  Puritanic  austerity,  godly  talk, 
downcast  eyes,  and  the  intolerable  nuisance  of  talk- 
ing and  thinking  perpetually  about  the  very  slender 
chance  of  getting  into  heaven,  rushed  into  a  reckless 
extreme  of  brave  and  even  gaudy  attire  and  generous 
feasting,  the  twang  of  the  guitar  no  longer  prohibited, 
nor  the  singing  of  love  ditties,  nor  the  dancing  of  the 


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CHARLES   THE    SECOND  375 

youths  and  maids  forbidden.  Even  this  natural  re- 
action affected  only  the  young.  The  heart  of  the  City 
was,  and  remained  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  after- 
wards, deeply  affected  with  the  Puritanic  spirit.  It 
has  been  of  late  years  the  fashion  of  the  day — led  by 
those  who  wish  to  saddle  us  again  with  sacerdotalism 
— to  scoff  and  laugh  at  this  spirit.  It  has  nearly  dis- 
appeared now,  even  in  America ;  but  we  may  see  in  it 
far  more  than  what  has  been  called  the  selfish  desire 
of  each  man  to  save  his  own  soul.  We  may  see  in  it, 
especially,  the  spirit  of  personal  responsibility,  the  loss 
of  which  —  if  we  ever  do  lose  it,  should  authority  be 
able  to  reassert  her  old  power — will  be  fatal  to  intel- 
lectual or  moral  advance.  Personal  responsibility 
brings  with  it  personal  dignity,  enterprise,  courage, 
patience,  all  the  virtues.  Only  that  man  who  stands 
face  to  face  with  his  Maker,  with  no  authority  inter- 
vening, can  be  called  free.  But  when  the  young  men 
of  the  City  had  had  their  fling,  in  the  first  rush  and 
whirlpool  of  the  Restoration,  they  settled  down 
soberly  to  business  again.  The  foundation  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company  proves  that  the  Elizabethan 
spirit  of  enterprise  was  by  no  means  dead.  The  Insti- 
tution of  the  Royal  Society,  which  had  its  first  home 
in  Gresham  College,  proves  that  the  City  thought  of 
other  useful  things  besides  money-getting.  The  last 
forty  years  of  the  seventeenth  century,  however,  might 
have  been  passed  over  as  presenting  no  special  points 
of  change,  except  in  the  gradual  introduction  of  tea 
and  coffee.  As  London  was  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth, 
so  it  was,  with  a  few  changes,  in  the  time  of  Charles 
the  Second.  A  little  variation  in  the  costumes ;  a 
little  alteration  in  the.  hour  of  dinner;  a  greatly  ex- 


376  LONDON 

tended  trade  over  a  much  wider  world ;  and,  in  all 
other  respects,  the  same  city. 

Two  events — two  disasters — give  special  impor- 
tance to  this  period.  I  mean  the  Plague  and  the 
Fire. 

The  Plague  was  the  twelfth  of  its  kind  which  visited 
the  City  during  a  period  of  seven  hundred  years. 
The  twelfth  and  the  last.  Yet  not  the  worst.  That 
of  the  year  1407  is  said  to  have  killed  half  the  popu- 
lation :  that  of  1517,  if  historians  are  to  be  believed  in 
the  matter  of  numbers,  which  is  seldom  the  case,  killed 
more  than  half.  Of  all  these  plagues  we  hear  no  more 
than  the  bare,  dreadful  fact,  "Plague — so  many  thou- 
sands killed."  That  is  all  that  the  chronicles  tell  us. 
Since  there  was  no  contemporary  historian  we  know 
nothing  more.  How  many  plagues  have  fallen  upon 
poor  humanity,  with  countless  tragedies. and  appalling 
miseries,  but  with  no  historian?-  We  know  all  about 
the  Plague  of  Athens,  the  Plague  of  Florence,  the 
Plague  of  London  —  the  words  require  no  dates — but 
what  of  the  many  other  plagues? 

The  plague  was  no  new  thing ;  it  was  always  threat- 
ening ;  it  broke  out  on  board  ship ;  it  was  carried 
about  in  bales ;  it  was  brought  from  the  Levant  with 
the  figs  and  the  spices  ;  some  sailor  was  stricken  with 
it;  reports  were  constantly  flying  about  concerning  it; 
now  it  was  at  Constantinople ;  now  at  Amsterdam  ; 
now  at  Marseilles;  now  at  Algiers;  everybody  knew 
that  it  might  come  again  at  any  time.  But  it  delayed  ; 
the  years  went  on  ;  there  was  no  plague  ;  the  younger 
people  ceased  to  dread  it.  Then,  like  the  Deluge, 
which  may  stand  as  the  type  of  disaster  long  promised 
and  foretold,  and  not  to  be  avoided,  yet  long  delayed, 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  377 

it  came  at  last.  And  when  it  went  away  it  had  de- 
stroyed near  upon  a  hundred  thousand  people. 

We  read  the  marvellous  history  of  the  Plague  as  it 
presented  itself  to  the  imagination  of  Daniel  Defoe, 
who  wrote  fifty  years  after  the  event.  Nothing  ever 
written  in  the  English  language  holds  the  reader  with 
such  a  grip  as  his  account  of  the  Plague.  It  seems  as 
if  no  one  at  the  time  could  have  been  able  to  speak  or 
think  of  anything  but  the  Plague ;  we  see  the  horror 
of  the  empty  streets ;  we  hear  the  cries  and  lamenta- 
tions of  those  who  are  seized  and  those  who  are  be- 
reaved. The  cart  comes  slowly  along  the  streets  with 
the  man  ringing  a  bell  and  crying,  "  Bring  out  your 
dead  !  Bring  out  your  dead  !"  We  think  of  the  great 
fosses  communes,  the  holes  into  which  the  dead  were 
thrown  in  heaps  and  covered  with  a  little  earth ;  we 
think  of  the  grass  growing  in  the  streets  ;  the  churches 
deserted ;  the  clergymen  basely  flying ;  their  places 
taken  by  the  ejected  nonconformists  who  preach  of 
repentance  and  forgiveness — no  time,  this,  for  the  Cal- 
vinist  to  number  the  Elect  on  his  ten  fingers — to  as 
many  as  dare  assemble  together ;  the  roads  black  with 
fugitives  hurrying  from  the  abode  of  Death ;  we  hear 
the  frantic  mirth  of  revellers  snatching  to-night  a 
doubtful  rapture,  for  to-morrow  they  die.  The  City  is 
filled  with  despair.  We  look  into  the  pale  faces  of 
those  who  venture  forth ;  we  hear  the  sighs  of  those 
who  meet;  nobody — nobody,  we  imagine  —  can  think 
of  aught  else  than  the  immediate  prospect  of  death 
for  himself  and  all  he  loves. 

Pepys,  however,  who  remained  in  the  City  most  of 
the  time,  not  only  notes  down  calmly  the  progress  of 
the  pestilence,  but  also  allows  us  to  see  the  effect  it 


378  LONDON 

produced  on  Us  own  mind.  It  is  very  curious.  He 
reads  the  Bills  of  Mortality  as  they  are  publishec} :  he, 
as  well. as  Defoe,  records  the  silent  and  deserted  ap- 
pearance of  the  town :  he  confesses,  now  and  then, 
that  he  is  fearful ;  but  his  mind  is  all  the  time 
entirely  occupied  with  his  own  advancement  and  his 
own  pleasures.  He  feasts  and  drinks  with  his  friends ; 
he  notes  that  "we  were  very  merry."  Occasionally 
he  betrays  a  little  anxiety,  but  he  is  never  panic- 
stricken. 

In  the  entry  of  September,  when  the  Plague  was  at 
its  height,  and  the  terror  and  misery  of  London  at 
their  worst,  he  writes :  "To  the  Tower,  and  there  sent 
for  the  weekly  Bill,  and  find  8252  dead  in  all,  and  of 
these  6978  of  the  Plague,  which  is  a  most  dreadful 
number  and  shows  reason  to  fear  that  the  Plague  hath 
got  that  hold  that  it  will  yet  continue  among  us. 
Thence  to  Branford,  reading  '  The  Villaine,'  a  pretty 
good  play,  all  the  way.  There  a  coach  of  Mr.  Povy's 
stood  ready  for  me,  and  he  at  his  house  ready  to  come 
in,  and  so  we  together  merrily  to  Swakely  to  Sir  R. 
Viner."  And  the  same  week,  hearing  that  Lord  Sand- 
wich with  the  fleet  had  taken  some  prizes — "  the  re- 
ceipt of  this  news  did  put  us  all  into  an  extasy  of  joy 
that  it  inspired  into  Sir  J.  Minner  and  Mr.  Evelyn 
such  a  spirit  of  mirth,  that  in  all  my  life  I  never  met 
with  so  merry  a  two  hours  as  our  company  this  night 
was."  Perhaps,  however,  this  excess  of  mirth  was  not 
due  to  insensibility,  but  was  a  natural  reaction  from 
the  gloom  and  terror  that  stalked  the  streets. 

The  summer  of  1665  was  curiously  hot  and  dry. 
Every  day  a  blue  sky,  a  scorching  sun,  and  no  breath 
of  wind.  If  bonfires  were  kindled  to  purify  the  air, 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  379 

the  smoke  ascended  and  hung  overhead  in  a  motion- 
less cloud.  From  May  till  September,  no  wind,  no 
rain,  no  cloud,  only  perpetual  sunshine  to  mock  the 
misery  of  the  prostrate  city. 

At  the  first  outbreak  of  the  disease  the  people  be- 
gan to  run  away ;  the  roads  were  black  with  carts 
carrying  their  necessaries  into  the  country ;  the  City 
clergy  for  the  most  part  deserted  their  churches; 
physicians  ran  from  the  disease  they  could  not  cure, 
pretending  that  they  had  to  go  away  with  their  pa- 
tients; the  Court  left  Whitehall;  the  Courts  of  Justice 
were  removed  to  Oxford.  The  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, however,  remained  at  Lambeth  Palace,  and  the 
Duke  of  Albemarle  and  Lord  Craven  remained  in  their 
town  houses.  And  the  Lord  Mayor,  Sir  John  Lau- 
rence, ordered  that  the  aldermen,  sheriffs,  common 
councilmen,  and  all  constables  and  officers  of  the  City 
should  remain  at  their  posts. 

As  the  Plague  increased,  business  of  all  kinds  was 
suspended ;  works  were  closed ;  ships  that  arrived 
laden,  went  down  the  river  again  and  across  to  Amster- 
dam ;  ships  that  waited  for  their  cargoes  lay  idle  in  the 
Pool  by  hundreds ;  shops  were  shut ;  manufactories 
and  industries  of  all  kinds  were  stopped. 

Consider  what  this  means.  London  was  not  only  a 
city  of  foreign  trade  and  a  great  port,  but  a  city,  also, 
of  many  industries.  It  made  an  enormous  quantity 
of  things ;  the  very  livelihood  of  the  City  was  derived 
from  its  trade  and  its  industries.  These  once  stopped, 
the  City  perished.  We  have  seen  how  the  Roman 
Augusta  decayed  and  died.  The  people  had  no  longer 
any  trade  or  any  work,  or  any  food.  Therefore,  the 
City  died.  The  same  thing,  from  different  causes, 


38o 


LONDON 


happened  again.  Trade 
and  work  were  suspend- 
ed. Therefore,  the  people 
began  to  starve. 

Defoe,  in  his  catalogu- 
ing way,  which  is  the 
surest  way  of  bringing  a 
thing  home  to  every  one's 
understanding,  enumer- 
ates all  the  different  trades 


HUNGERFORD     MARKET 


thrown  out  of  work.  That  is  to  say,  he  catalogues  all 
the  trades  of  London.  Let  it  be  understood  that  the 
population  of  London  was  then  about  350,000.  This 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  381 

means  about  100,000  working  men  of  sixteen  and  up- 
ward. All  these  craftsmen,  living  from  week  to  week 
upon  their  wages,  with  nothing  saved,  were  turned  out 
of  employment  almost  at  the  same  time — they  and 
their  families  left  to  starve.  Not  only  this,  but  clerks, 
book-keepers,  serving-men,  footmen,  maid-servants,  and 
apprentices  were  all  turned  into  the  streets  together. 
Add  to  this  the  small  shopkeepers  and  retailers  of 
every  kind,  who  live  by  their  daily  or  weekly  takings, 
and  we  shall  have  a  population  of  a  quarter  of  a  mill- 
ion to  keep. 

The  Lord  Mayor,  assisted  by  the  Archbishop  and 
the  two  lords,  Albemarle  and  Craven,  began  and  main- 
tained a  service  of  relief  for  these  starving  multitudes. 
The  King  sent  a  thousand  pounds  a  week ;  the  City 
gave  six  hundred  pounds  a  week ;  merchants  and  rich 
people  sent  thousands  every  week ;  it  is  said  that  a 
hundred  thousand  pounds  a  week  was  contributed ; 
-this  seems  too  great  a  sum — yet  a  whole  city  out  of 
work !  Employment  was  found  for  some  of  the  men 
as  constables,  drivers  of  the  carts  that  carried  the  dead 
to  the  burial-places,  and  so  forth — and  for  the  women 
as  nurses.  And,  thanks  to  the  Mayor's  exertions, 
there  was  a  plentiful  supply  of  provisions  during  the 
whole  time. 

The  disease  continued  to  spread.  It  was  thought 
that  dogs  and  cats  carried  about  infection.  All  those 
in  the  City  were  slaughtered.  They  even  tried,  for  the 
same  reason,  to  poison  the  rats  and  mice,  but  appar- 
ently failed.  The  necessity  of  going  to  market  was  a 
great  source  of  danger ;  people  were  warned  to  lift 
their  meat  off  the  counter  by  iron  hooks.  Many 
families  isolated  themselves.  The  journal  of  one  such 


382 


LONDON 


household  remains.  The  household,  which  lived  in 
Wood  Street,  Cheapside,  consisted  of  the  master,  a 
wholesale  grocer,  his  wife,  five  children,  two  maid- 
servants, two  apprentices,  a  porter,  and  a  boy.  He 
sent  the  boy  to  his  friends  in  the  country;  he  gave  the 
elder  apprentice  the  rest  of  his  time  ;  and  he  stationed 
his  porter,  Abraham,  outside  his  door,  there  to  sitv 
night  and  day.  Every  window  was  closed,  and  noth- 
ing suffered  to  enter  the  house  except  at  one  upper 
window,  which  was  opened  to  admit  necessaries,  but 
only  with  fumigation  of  gunpowder.  At  first  the 
Plague,  while  it  raged  about  Holborn,  Fleet  Street, 
and  the  Strand,  came  not  within  the  City.  This  care- 
ful man,  however,  fully  expected  it,  and  when  it  did 
appear  in  July  he  locked  himself  up  for  good.  Then 


CHEAPSIDB 


they  knew  nothing  except  what  the  porter  told  them, 
and  what  they  read  in  the  Bills  of  Mortality.  But  all 
day  long  the  knell  never  ceased  to  toll.  Yery  soon 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND       .  383 

all  the  houses  in  the  street  were  infected  and  visited 
except  their  own.  And  when  every  day,  and  all  day 
long,  he  heard  nothing  but  bad  news,  growing  daily 
worse,  and  when  every  night  he  heard  the  dismal  bell 
and  the  rumbling  of  the  dead  cart,  and  the  voice  of 
the  bellman  crying,  "  Bring  out  your  dead !"  he  be- 
gan to  give  up  all  for  lost.  First,  however,  he  made 
arrangements  for  the  isolation  of  any  one  who  should 
be  seized.  Three  times  a  day  they  held  a  service  of 
prayer ;  twice  a  week  they  observed  a  day  of  fasting ; 
one  would  think  that  this  maceration  of  the  flesh  was 
enough  in  itself  to  invite  the  Plague.  Every  morning 
the  father  rose  early  and  went  round  to  each  chamber 
door  asking  how  its  inmates  fared.  When  they  replied 
"  Well,"  he  answered  "  Give  God  thanks."  Outside, 
Abraham  sat  all  day  long,  hearing  from  every  passer- 
by the  news  of  the  day,  which  grew  more  and  more 
terrifying,  and  passing  it  on  to  the  upper  window, 
where  it  was  received  with  a  fiery  fumigation.  One 
day  Abraham  came  not.  But  his  wife  came.  "  Abra- 
ham," she  said,  "  died  of  the  Plague  this  morning, 
and  as  for  me,  I  have  it  also,  and  I  am  going  home  to 
die.  But  first  I  will  send  another  man  to  take  my 
husband's  place."  So  the  poor  faithful  woman  crept 
home  and  died,  and  that  night  with  her  husband  was 
thrown  into  a  great  pit  with  no  funeral  service  except 
the  cursing  and  swearing  of  the  rough  fellows  who 
drove  the  cart.  The  other  man  came,  but  in  a  day  or 
two  he  also  sickened  and  died.  Then  they  had  no 
porter  and  no  way  of  communicating  with  the  outer 
world.  They  remained  prisoners,  the  whole  family, 
with  the  two  maids,  for  five  long  months.  I  suppose 
they  must  have  devised  some  necessary  communi- 


384  LONDON. 

cation  with  the  outer  world,  or  they  would  have 
starved. 

Presently  the  Plague  began  to  decrease ;  its  fury 
was  spent.  But  it  was  not  until  the  first  week  of  De- 
cember that  this  citizen  ventured  forth.  Then  he  took 
all  his  family  to  Tottenham  for.a  change  of  air.  One 
would  think  they  needed  it  after  this  long  confine- 
ment, and  the  monotony  of  their  prison  fare. 

By  this  time  the  people  were  coming  back  fast — too 
fast ;  because  their  return  caused  a  fresh  outbreak. 
Then  there  was  a  grand  conflagration  of  everything 
which  might  harbor  the  plague  —  curtains,  sheets, 
blankets,  hangings,  stuffs,  clothes — whatever  there  was 
in  which  the  accursed  thing  might  linger.  And  every 
house  in  which  a  case  had  occurred  was  scoured  and 
whitewashed,  while  the  church-yards  were  all  covered 
with  fresh  earth  at  least  a  foot  thick. 

All  this  is  a  twice-told  tale.  But  some  tales  may 
be  told  again  and  again.  Consider,  for  instance,  apart 
from  the  horror  of  this  mighty  pestilence,  the  loss  and 
injury  inflicted  upon  the  City.  If  it  is  true  that  a 
hundred  thousand  perished,  about  half  of  them  would 
be  the  craftsmen,  the  skilled  workmen  who  created 
most  of  the  wealth  of  London.  How  to  replace  these 
men  ?  They  could  never  be  replaced. 

Consider,  again,  that  London  was  the  great  port  for 
the  reception  and  transmission  of  all  the  goods  in  the 
whole  country.  The  stoppage  of  trade  in  London 
meant  the  stoppage  of  trade  over  the  whole  land. 
The  cloth-makers  of  the  West,  the  iron-founders,  the 
colliers,  the  tin  mines,  the  tanners,  all  were  stopped, 
all  were  thrown  out  of  work. 

Again,  consider  the  ruin   of  families.     How  many 


CHARLES    THE    SECOND 


385 


\ 


FLEET   STREET 


children  of  flourishing  master -workmen,  tradesmen, 
and  merchants  were  reduced  to  poverty  by  the  death 
of  the  father,  and  suddenly  lowered  to  the  level  of 
working-men,  happy  if  they  were  still  young  enough 

25 


386  LONDON 

to  learn  a  craft?  How  many  lost  their  credit  in  the 
general  stoppage  of  business?  How  many  fortunes 
were  cast  away  when  no  debts  could  be  collected, 
and  when  the  debtors  themselves  were  all  destroyed  ? 
And  in  cases  when  children  were  too  young  to  pro- 
tect themselves,  how  many  were  plundered  of  every- 
thing when  their  parents  were  dead? 

Defoe,  writing  what  he  had  learned  by  conversa- 
tion with  those  who  could  remember  this  evil  time, 
speaks  of  strange  extravagances  on  the  part  of  those 
who  were  infected.  Very  likely  there  were  such 
things.  Not,  however,  that  they  were  common,  as 
his  story  would  have  us  believe.  I  prefer  the  picture 
of  the  imprisoned  citizen,  which  represents  a  city  sit- 
ting in  sorrowful  silence,  the  people  crouching  in  their 
houses  in  silence  or  in  prayer,  gazing  helpless  upon 
each  other,  while  the  blue  sky  and  the  hot  sun  look 
down  upon  them,  and  the  Plague  grows  busier  every 
day. 

When  it  abated  at  last,  and  the  runaways  went 
back  to  town,  Pepys  among  them,  he  notes  the  amaz- 
ing number  of  beggars.  These  poor  creatures  were 
the  widows  or  children  of  the  craftsmen,  or  the  crafts- 
men themselves  whose  ruin  we  have  just  noted. 

This  was  in  January.  The  Plague,  however,  dragged 
on.  In  the  week  ending  March  I,  1666,  there  were 
forty -two  deaths  from  it.  In  the  month  of  July  it 
was  still  present  in  London,  and  reported  to  be  raging 
at  Colchester.  In  August,  Pepys  finds  the  house  of 
one  of  his  friends  in  Fenchurch  Street  shut  up  with 
the  Plague,  and  it  was  said  to  be  as  bad  as  ever 
at  Greenwich.  This  was  the  last  entry  about  it,  be- 
cause in  a  week  or  two  there  was  to  happen  an 


•CHARLES   THE    SECOND  387 

event  of  even  greater  importance  than  this  great 
Plague. 

Observe  that  this  was  the  last  appearance  of  the 
Plague.  Since  1665  it  has  never  appeared  in  Europe, 
except  in  Marseilles  in  the  year  1720.  It  is  not  ex- 
tinct. It  smoulders,  like  Vesuvius.  There  is  nothing, 
so  far  as  can  be  understood,  to  prevent  its  reappear- 
ance in  London  or  anywhere  else,  unless  it  is  the 
improved  sanitation  of  modern  cities.  For  instance,  it 
was  at  Astrakhan  in  1879.  But  ^  travelled  no  far- 
ther west.  It  is  generated  in  the  broad  miasmatic  val- 
ley of  the  Euphrates;  there  it  lies,  ready  to  be  car- 
ried about  the  world,  the  last  gift  of  Babylon  to  the 
nations.  When  that  great  city  is  built  again,  the  cen- 
tre of  commerce  between  Europe  and  the  East,  the 
valley  will  once  more  be  drained  and  cultivated,  and 
the  Plague  will  die  and  be  no  more  seen.  But  who 
is  to  rebuild  Babylon  and  to  repeople  the  land  of  the 
Assyrians  ? 

There  were  two  great  Plagues  of  London  in  the 
seventeenth  century  before  this — the  last  and  great- 
est— one  in  1603  and  the  other  in  1625.  I  have  be- 
fore me  two  contemporary  tracts  upon  these  plagues. 
They  illustrate  what  has  been  said  of  the  Plague  of 
1665.  Exactly  the  same  things  happened.  In  listen- 
ing either  to  him  of  1603,  or  to  him  of  1625,  one  hears 
the  voice  of  1665.  I  think  that  these  tracts  have 
never  before  been  quoted.  Yet  it  is  quite  clear  to  me 
that  Defoe  must  have  seen  them  both. 

The  first  is  called  The  Wonderful  Year,  1603.  The 
author,  who  is  anonymous,  begins  with  weeping  over 
the  death  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  This  tribute  paid, 
with  such  exaggerated  grief  as  belongs  to  his  sense 


388  LONDON 

of  loyalty,  he  rejoices,  with  equal  extravagance,  over 
the  accession  of  James.  This  brings  him  to  his  real 
subject : 

A  stiffe  and  freezing  horror  sucks  vp  the  riuers  of  my  blood: 
my  haire  stands  an  ende  with  the  panting  of  my  braines:  mine 
eye  balls  are  ready  to  start  out,  being  beaten  with  the  billowes 
of  my  teares :  out  of  my  weeping  pen  does  the  inke  mournfully 
and  more  bitterly  than  gall  drop  on  the  pale-faced  paper,  even 
when  I  do  but  thinke  how  the  bowels  of  my  sicke  country 
have  bene  torne.  Apollo,  therefore,  and  you  bewitching  siluer- 
tongd  Muses,  get  you  gone :  I  inuocate  none  of  your  names. 
Sorrow  and  truth,  sit  you  on  each  side  of  me,  whilst  I  am  de- 
livered of  this  deadly  burden :  prompt  me  that  I  may  utter 
ruthfull  and  passionate  condolement :  arme  my  trembling  hand, 
that  I  may  boldly  rip  up  and  anatomize  the  ulcerous  body  of 
this  Anthropophagized  Plague  :  lend  me  art  (without  any  coun- 
terfeit shadowing)  to  paint  and  delineate  to  the  life  the  whole 
story  of  this  mortall  and  pestiferous  battaile.  And  you  the 
ghosts  of  those  more  (by  many)  than  40000,  that  with  the  virulent 
poison  of  infection  haue  bene  drjuen  out  of  your  earthly  dwell- 
ings :  you  desolate  hand-wringing  widowes,  that  beate  your 
bosomes  over  your  departing  husbands  :  you  wofully  distracted 
mothers  that  with  disheueld  haire  falne  into  swounds,  while  you 
lye  kissing  the  insensible  cold  lips  of  your  breathlesse  infants : 
you  out-cast  and  down-troden  orphans,  that  shall  many  a  yeare 
hence  remember  more  freshly  to  mourne,  when  your  mourning 
garments  shall  looke  olde  and  be  forgotten  ;  and  you  the  Genii 
of  all  those  emptyed  families,  whose  habitations  are  now  among 
the  Antipodes;  joine  all  your  hands  together,  and  with  your 
bodies  cast  a  ring  about  me ;  let  me  behold  your  ghastly  viz- 
ages,  that  my  paper  may  receiue  their  true  pictures :  Eccho 
forth  your  grones  through  the  hollow  trunke  of  my  pen,  and 
raine  downe  your  gummy  tears  into  mine  incke,  that  even  mar- 
ble bosomes  may  be  shaken  with  terrour,  and  hearts  of  ada- 
mant melt  into  compassion. 

In  this  extravagant  vein  he  plunges  into  the  sub- 


CHARLES  THE    SECOND  391 

ject.  Death,  he  says,  like  stalking  Tamberlaine,  hath 
pitched  his  tent  in  the  suburbs ;  the  Plague  is  mus- 
ter-master and  marshal  of  the  field ;  the  main  army  is 
a  "  mingle-mangle  "  of  dumpish  mourners,  merry  sex- 
tons, hungry  coffin  -  sellers,  and  nastie  grave-makers. 
All  who  could  run  away,  he  says,  did  run ;  some  rid- 
ing, some  on  foot,  some  without  boots,  some  in  slip- 
pers, by  water,  by  land — 'in  shoals  sworn  they."  Then 
the  Plague  invaded  the  City.  Every  house  looked 
like  Bartholomew's  Hospital;  the  people  drank  mith- 
ridatum  and  dragon- water  all  day  long;  they  stuffed 
their  ears  and  noses  with  rue  and  wormwood.  Laza- 
rus lay  at  the  door,  but  Dives  was  gone ;  there  were 
no  dogs  in  the  streets,  for  the  Plague  killed  them  all ; 
whole  families  were  carried  to  the  grave  as  if  to  bed. 
"What  became  of  our  Phisitions  in  this  massacre? 
They  hid  their  synodical  heads  as  well  as  the  prowd- 
est ;  for  their  phlebotomes,  losinges,  and  electuaries, 
with  their  diacatholicons,  diacodions,  amulets,  and  an- 
tidotes had  not  so  much  strength  to  hold  life  and  soule 
together  as  a  pot  of  Pindar's  ale  and  a  nutmeg."  When 
servants  and  prentices  were  attacked  by  the  disease, 
they  were  too  often  thrust  out-of-doors  by  their  mas- 
ters, and  perished  "  in  fields,  in  ditches,  in  common 
cages,  and  under  stalls."  Then  he  begins  to  tell  the 
gruesome  stories  that  belong  to  every  time  of  Plague. 
In  this  he  is  followed  by  Defoe,  who  most  certainly 
saw  this  pamphlet.  What  happened  in  1603  also  hap- 
pened in  1665.  Those  who  could  run  away  did  so ; 
the  physicians — who  could  do  nothing — ran  ;  the  rich 
merchants  ran  ;  there  was  a  general  stoppage  of  trade ; 
there  was  great  suffering  among  the  poor;  those 
who  dared  to  sit  together,  sat  in  the  taverns  drinking 


392  LONDON 

till  they  lost  their  fears.     His  stories  told,  the  writer 
concludes : 

I  could  fill  a  whole  uolume,  and  call  it  the  second  part  of 
the  hundred  mery  tales,  onely  with  such  ridiculous  stuffe  as 
this  of  the  Justice ;  but  Dii  meliora ;  I  haue  better  matters  to 
set  my  wits  about :  neither  shall  you  wring  out  of  my  pen 
(though  you  lay  it  on  the  racke)  the  villainies  of  that  damnd 
Keeper,  who  killd  all  she  kept ;  it  had  bene  good  to  haue  made 
her  Keeper  of  the  common  Jayle,  and  the  holes  of  both  Count- 
ers; for  a  number  lye  there  that  wish  to  be  rid  out  of  this 
motley  world  ;  shee  would  haue  tickled  them  and  turned  them 
ouer  the  thumbs.  I  will  likewise  let  the  Church-warden  in 
Thames-street  sleep  (for  hees  now  past  waking)  who  being  re- 
quested by  one  of  his  neighbors  to  suffer  his  wife  or  child 
(that  was  then  dead)  to  lye  in  the  Church-yard,  answered  in 
a  mocking  sort,  he  keept  that  lodging  for  himselfe  and  his 
household :  and  within  three  days  after  was  driuen  to  hide  his 
head  in  a  hole  himself.  Neither  will  I  speake  a  word  of  a  poore 
boy  (seruant  to  a  Chandler)  dwelling  thereabouts,  who  being 
struck  to  the  heart  by  sicknes,  was  first  caryed  away  by  water, 
to  be  left  anywhere ;  but  landing  being  denyed  by  an  army 
of  brownebill  men,  that  kept  the  shore,  back  againe  was  he 
brought,  and  left  in  an  out-celler,  where  lying  groueling  and 
groaning  on  his  face,  among  fagots  (but  not  one  of  them  set 
on  fire  to  comfort  him),  there  continued  all  night,  and  dyed 
miserably  for  want  of  succor.  Nor  of  another  poore  wretch,  in 
the  Parish  of  St.  Mary  Oueryes,  who  being  in  the  morning 
throwne,  as  the  fashion  is,  into  a  graue  vpon  a  heap  of  car- 
cases, that  kayd  for  their  complement,  was  found  in  the  after- 
noone  gasping  and  gaping  for  life :  but  by  these  tricks,  imag- 
ining that  many  thousand  haue  bene  turned  wrongfully  off  the 
ladder  of  life,  and  praying  that  Dertck  or  his  executors,  may 
Hue  to  do  those  a  good  turne,  that  haue  done  so  to  others : 
Hie  finis  Priami;  heeres  an  end  of  an  old  song. 

The  second  tract  was  written  by  one  whose  Chris- 
tian name  is  surely  Jeremiah.  It  is  called  Vox  Civi- 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  393 

tatis.  It  is  the  Lamentation  of  London  under  the 
Plague.  The  City  mourns  her  departed  merchants. 
"  Issachar  stands  still  for  want  of  work."  Her  children 
are  starving ;  her  apprentices,  "  the  children  of  knights 
and  justices  of  the  county,"  are  rated  with  beggars, 
and  buried  in  the  highway  like  malefactors.  As  for 
the  clergy,  they  did  not  forsake  their  flocks;  they 
sent  them  away — all  who  could  go — before  they  them- 
selves fled.  The  physicians  and  the  surgeons  have 
fled.  Yet  some  have  remained — parsons,  physicians, 
and  surgeons.  The  Lord  Mayor,  too,  remained  at  his 
post.  Then  he  argues  that  no  one,  in  whatever  sta- 
tion, has  the  right  to  desert  his  post.  None  are  use- 
less. He  declaims  against  the  inhumanity  of  those 
who  refuse  shelter  to  a  stricken  man,  and  he  calls  upon 
those  who  have  food  to  return.  The  whole  composi- 
tion is  filled  with  pious  ejaculations ;  it  certainly  is 
the  work  of  some  city  clegyman.  London  is  stricken 
for  her  sins ;  yet  there  is  mercy  in  the  chastisement. 
The  author  is  always  finding  consolation  in  the 
thought  that  the  puuishment  will  lead  to  reformation. 
Yet  the  work  is  a  cry  of  suffering,  of  pity,  and  of  in- 
dignation. The  writer  does  not  relate,  he  alludes  to 
what  everybody  knows ;  yet  he  makes  us  see  the 
workshops  closed,  'Change  deserted,  churches  shut,  all 
the  better  class  fled,  prentices  thrust  out  to  die  in  the 
streets,  the  people  with  no  work  and  no  money,  the 
servants  left  to  guard  the  warehouses  dead ;  even  in 
Cheapside  not  a  place  where  one  can  change  a  purse 
of  gold;  "Watling  Street  like  an  empty  Cloyster." 
The  Plague  is  terrible,  but  it  is  the  chastisement  of 
the  Lord.  He  hath  taken  the  City  into  His  own 

hands ;  that  may  be  borne ;  the  worst,  the  most  terri- 
25—2 


394  LONDON 

ble  thing  is  the  desertion  of  the  City  and  the  people 
by  the  masters ;  the  abandonment  of  those  dependent 
upon  their  employers  —  this  is  the  burden  of  the  cry. 
To  those  who  study  the  gleams  and  glimpses  of 
Plague -time  in  these  papers,  the  worst  suffering  in 
every  time  of  pestilence  was  caused  by  the  cessation 
of  work  and  of  trade.  The  master  gone,  the  servants 
had  no  work  and  no  wages — how  were  the  children  to 
be  fed  ? 

With  one  little  touch  of  human  nature  the  tract 
concludes.  The  writer  was  a  scholar;  he  is  jealous 
concerning  his  style.  "  If,"  he  says,  "  this  Declaration 
wants  Science,  or  that  Eloquence  that  might  beseem 
me,  consider  my  Trouble,  the  Absence  of  my  Orators, 
the  shutting  up  of  my  Libraries,  so  that  I  was  content 
with  a  common  Secretary."  It  is  Vox  Civitatis  Lon- 
don that  speaks ;  her  libraries  are  those  of  St.  Paul's, 
Zion  College,  Gresham  College,  Whittington  College ; 
the  "  common  Secretary  "  is  the  writer.  Such  is  his 
proud  humility — a  "  common  Secretary !" 

Now  for  another  twice-told  tale. 

The  last  cross  had  not  been  removed  from  the  last 
infected  house,  the  last  person  dead  of  the  Plague 
had  not  been  buried,  before  the  Great  Fire  of  London 
broke  out  and  purged  the  plague-stricken  city  from 
end  to  end. 

Three  great  fires-  had  destroyed  London  before  this 
of  the  year  1666,  viz.,  in  962,  in  1087,  which  swept 
away  nearly  the  whole  of  the  City,  and  in  1212,  when 
a  great  part  of  Southwark  and  of  the  City  north  of 
the  bridge  was  destroyed. ' 

This  fire  began  early  in  the  morning  of  Sunday, 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  395 

September  2d.  It  broke  out  at  the  house  of  one  Far- 
ryner,  a  baker  in  Pudding  Lane,  Thames  Street.  All 
the  houses  in  that  lane,  and,  one  supposes,  in  all  the 
narrow  lanes  and  courts  about  this  part  of  the  City, 
were  of  wood,  pitched  without :  the  lane  was  narrow, 
and  the  projecting  stories  on  either  side  nearly  met  at 
the  top.  The  baker's  house  was  full  of  faggots  and 
brushwood,  so  that  the  fire  instantly  broke  out  into 
full  fury  and  spread  four  ways  at  once.  The  houses 
stood  very  thick  in  this,  the  most  densely  populated 
part  of  the  City.  In  the  narrow  lanes  north  and 
south  of  Thames  Street  lived  those  who  made  their 
living  as  stevedores,  watermen,  porters;  carriers,  and 
so  forth ;  in  Thames  Street  itself,  on  either  side,  were 
warehouses  filled  with  oil,  pitch,  and  tar,  wine,  brandy, 
and  such  inflammable  things,  so  that  by  six  o'clock 
on  Sunday  morning  all  Fish  Street  was  in  flames,  and 
the  fire  spreading  so  fast  that  the  people  barely  had 
time  to  remove  their  goods.  As  it  drew  near  to  a 
house  they  hurriedly  loaded  a  cart  with  the  more  val- 
uable effects  and  carried  them  off  to  another  house 
farther  away,  and  then  to  another,  and  yet  another. 
Some  placed  their  goods  in  churches  for  safety,  as  if 
the  flames  would  respect  a  consecrated  building.  The 
booksellers,  for  instance,  of  Paternoster  Row  carried 
all  their  books  into  the  crypt  of  St.  Paul's,  thinking 
that  there,  at  least,  would  be  a  safe  place,  if  any  in 
the  whole  world.  Who  could  look  at  those  strong 
stone  pillars  with  the  strong  arched  roof  and  suspect 
that  the  stones  would  crumble  like  sand  beneath  the 
fierce  heat  which  was  playing  upon  them  ?  All  that 
Sunday  was  spent  in  moving  goods  out  of  houses  be- 
fore the  flames  caught  them  ;  the  river  was  covered 


396 


LONDON 


with  barges  and  lighters  laden  with  furniture.  Pepys 
watched  the  fire  from  Bankside.  "  We  stayed  till,  it 
being  darkish,  we  saw  the  fire  as  only  one  entire  arch 
of  fire  from  this  to  the  other  side  of  the  bridge,  and  in 
a  bow  up  the  hill  for  an  arch  of  above  a  mile  long ;  it 
made  me  weep  to  see  it.  The  churches,  houses,  and 


-r.- 

~«J  "     \ '  \^A      s 


OLD  EAST  INDIA   HOUSE 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  397 

all  on  fire  and  flaming  at  once ;  and  a  horrid  noise  the 
flames  made,  and  the  crackling  of  houses  at  their 
ruin."  On  Monday  morning  Pepys  puts  his  bags  of 
gold  and  his  plate  into  a  cart  with  all  his  best  things, 
and  drove  off  to  Sir  William  Rider's,  at  Bethnal  Green. 
His  friend,  Sir  VV.  Batten,  not  knowing  how  to  move 
his  wine,  dug  a  pit  in  his  garden  and  put  it  there.  In 
this  pit,  also,  Pepys  placed  the  papers  of  the  Admi- 
ralty. 

On  Wednesday  he  walked  into  the  town  over  the 
hot  ashes.  Fenchurch  Street,  Gracechurch  Street, 
Lombard  Street,  Cheapside,  he  found  in  dust.  Of 
the  Exchange  nothing  standing  of  all  the  statues  but 
that  of  Sir  Thomas  Gresham — a  strange  survival.  On 
Saturday  he  went  to  see  the  ruins  of  St.  Paul's :  "  A 
miserable  sight ;  all  the  roofs  fallen,  and  the  body  of 
the  Quire  fallen  into  St.  Faith's ;  Paul's  school,  also 
Ludgate  and  Fleet  Street." 

The  fire  was  stayed  at  length  by  blowing  up  houses 
at  the  Temple  Church,  at  Pie  Corner,  Smithfield 
(where  the  figure  of  a  boy  still  stands  to  commemo- 
rate the  fact),  at  Aldersgate,  Cripplegate,  and  the 
upper  part  of  Bishopsgate  Street.  It  had  consumed 
five-sixths  of  the  City,  together  with  a  great  piece  be- 
yond the  western  gates.  It  had  covered  an  area  of 
436  acres,  viz.,  387  acres  within  the  walls,  and  73  with- 
out;  it  had  destroyed  132,000  dwelling-houses,  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral,  eighty-nine  parish  churches,  four  of 
the  City  gates,  Sion  College,  the  Royal  Exchange,  the 
old  Grey  Friars  Church,  the  Chapel  of  St.  Thomas 
of  Aeon,  and  an  immense  number  of  great  houses, 
schools,  prisons,  and  hospitals.  The  area  covered, 
roughly  speaking,  an  oblong  nearly  a  mile  and  a  half 


398 


LONDON 


in  length  by  half  a  mile  in  breadth.  The  value  of 
the  property  destroyed  was  estimated  at  ;£  10,000,000. 
There  is  no  such  fire  of  any  great  city  on  record,  un- 
less it  is  the  burning  of  Rome  under  Nero. 


SIGN   COLLEGE 


Their  city  being  thus  destroyed,  the  .citizens  lost 
no  time,  but  set  to  work  manfully  to  rebuild  it.  The 
rebuilding  of  London  is  a  subject  of  some  obscurity. 
One  thing  is  quite  certain  :  that  as  soon  as  the  embers 
were  cool  enough  to  enable  the  people  to  walk  among 
them,  they  returned,  and  began  to  find  out  the  sites 
of  their  former  houses.  It  is  also  certain  that  it  took 
more  than  two  years  to  clear  away  the  tottering  walls 
and  the  ruins. 

It  was  at  first  proposed  tos  build  again  on  a  new 
plan;  Sir  Christopher  Wren  prepared  one  plan,  and 
Sir  John  Evelyn  another.  Both  plans  were  excellent, 
symmetrical  and  convenient.  Had  either  been  adopt- 
ed, the  City  of  London  would  have  been  as  artificial 
and  as  regular  as  a  new  American  town,  or  the  City  of 
Turin.  Very  happily,  while  the  Lord  Mayor  and  al- 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  399 

dermen  were  considering  the  matter,  the  people  had 
already  begun  to  build.  A  most  fortunate  thing  it 
was  that  the  City  rose  again  on  its  old  lines,  with  its 
winding  streets  and  narrow  lanes.  At  first  the  house- 
less people,  200,000  in  number,  camped  out  in  Moor- 
fields,  just  north  of  the  City.  Very  happily,  these 
fields,  which  had  long  been  a  swamp  or  fen  intersected 
by  ditches,  a  place  of  pasture,  kennels,  and  windmills, 
had  been  drained  by  the  City  in  1606,  and  were  now 
laid  out  in  pleasant  walks,  a  place  of  resort  for  sum- 
mer evenings,  a  wrestling  and  cudgel  playing-ground, 
and  a  ground  for  the  muster  of  the  militia.  Here 
they  set  up  tents  and  cottages ;  here  they  presently 
began  to  build  two-storied  houses  of  brick. 

As  they  had  no  churches,  they  set  up  "  tabernacles," 
whether  on  the  site  of  the  old  churches  or  in  Moor- 
fields  does  not  appear.  As  they  had  no  Exchange, 
they  used  Gresham  College  for  the  purpose  ;  the  same 
place  did  duty  for  the  Guildhall ;  the  Excise  Office 
was  removed  to  Southampton  Fields,  near  Bedford 
House ;  the  General  Post-office  was  taken  to  Brydges 
Street,  Covent  Garden;  the  Custom-house  to  Mark 
Lane ;  Doctors'  Commons  to  Exeter  House,  Strand. 
The  part  of  the  town  wanted  for  the  shipping  and 
foreign  trade  was  first  put  up.  And  thus  the  town, 
in  broken-winged  fashion,  renewed  its  old  life. 

On  September  i8th  the  Houses  of  Parliament  cre- 
ated a  Court  of  Judicature  for  settling  the  differences 
which  were  sure  to  arise  between  landlord  and  ten- 
ants, and  between  owners  of  land,-  as  to  boundaries 
and  other  things.  The  Justices  of  the  Court  of  King's 
Bench  and  Common  Pleas,  with  the  Barons  of  the 
Exchequer,  were  the  judges  of  the  Court.  So  much 


400  LONDON 

satisfaction  did  they  give  that  the  grateful  City  caused 
their  portraits  to  be  placed  in  Guildhall,  where,  I  be- 
lieve, they  may  be  seen  to  this  day. 

In  order  to  enable  the  churches,  prisons,  and  public 
buildings  to  be  rebuilt,  a  duty  was  laid  upon  coals. 
This  duty  was  also  to  enable  the  City  to  enlarge  the 
streets,  take  over  ground  for  quays,  and  other  useful 
purposes.  Nothing,  however,  seems  to  have  been 
granted  for  the  rebuilding  of  private  houses. 

The  building  of  the  churches  took  a  long  time  to 
accomplish.  The  first  to  be  completed  was  that  of 
St.  Dunstan's  in  the  East,  the  tower  of  which  is  Sir 
Christopher  Wren's ;  the  body  of  the  church,  which 
has  since  been  pulled  down,  was  by  another  hand. 
That  was  built  two  years  after  the  Fire.  Six  years 
after  the  Fire  another  church  was  finished ;  seven 
years  after  three  more ;  eight  years  after  three  more ; 
ten  years  after  five,  and  so  on,  dragging  along  until 
the  last  two  of  those  rebuilt — for  a  great  many  were 
not  put  up  again — were  finished  in  the  year  1697, 
thirty-one  years  after  the  Fire. 

Within  four  years  the  rebuilding  of  the  City  was 
nearly  completed.  Ten  thousand  houses  were  built,  a 
great  many  companies'  halls,  and  nearly  twenty  church- 
es. One  who  writes  in  the  year  1690  (Anglice  Metropo- 
lis, or,  The  Present  State  of  London)  says, "  As  if  the 
Fire  had  only  purged  the  City,  the  buildings  are  infi- 
nitely more  beautiful,  more  commodious,  more  solid 
(the  three  main  virtues  of  all  edifices)  than  before. 
They  have  made  their  streets  much  more  large  and 
straight,  paved  on  each  side  with  smooth  hewn  stone, 
and  guarded  the  same  with  many  massy  posts  for  the 
benefit  of  foot-passengers;  and  whereas  before  they 


CHARLES   THE   SECOND 


401 


dwelt  in  low,  dark,  wooden  houses,  they  now  live  in 
lofty,  lightsome,  uniform,  and  very  stately  brick  build- 
ings." This  is  great  gain.  And  yet,  looking  at  the 
houses  outside  Staple  Inn  and  at  the  old  pictures,  at 
what  loss  of  picturesqueness  was  this  gain  acquired? 
The  records  are  nearly  silent  as  to  the  way  in  which 
the  people  were  affected  by  the  Fire.  It  is  certain, 
however,  that  where  the  Plague  ruined  hundreds  of 
families,  the  Fire  ruined  thousands.  Thirteen  thou- 
sand houses  were  burned  down ;  many  of  these  were 
houses  harboring  two  or  three  families,  for  200,000 


JOHN    BUNYAN  S    MEETING-HOUSE   IN   ZOAR   STREET 

were  rendered  homeless.  Some  of  them  were  families 
of  the  lower  working  class,  the  river-side  laborers  and 
watermen,  who  would  suffer  little  more  than  temporary 
inconvenience,  and  the  loss  of  their  humble  "  sticks." 
26 


402  LONDON 

But  many  of  them  were  substantial  merchants,  their 
warehouses  filled  with  wine,  oil,  stuffs,  spices,  and  all 
kinds  of  merchandise ;  warehouses  and  contents  all 
gone — swept  clean  away — and  with  them  the  whole 
fortune  of  the  trader.  And  there  were  the  retailers, 
whose  stock  in  trade,  now  consumed,  represented  all 
they  had  in  the  world.  And  there  were  the  master- 
workmen,  their  workshops  fitted  with  such  machinery 
and  tools  as  belonged  to  their  craft  and  the  materials 
for  their  work — all  gone — all  destroyed.  Where  was 
the  money  found  to  replace  these  treasures  of  import- 
ed goods?  Who  could  refurnish  his  shop  for  the 
draper?  Who  could  rebuild  and  fill  his  warehouse 
for  the  merchant?  Who  could  give  back  his  books 
to  the  bookseller?  No  one — the  stock  was  all  gone. 

The  prisoners  for  debt,  as  well  as  those  who  were 
imprisoned  for  crime,  regained  their  freedom  when 
the  prisons  were  burned  down.  Could  the  debts  be 
proved  against  them  when  the  papers  were  all  de- 
stroyed ? 

The  tenant  whose  rent  was  in  arrears  was  safe,  for 
who  could  prove  that  he  had  not  paid  ? 

All  debts  were  wiped  clean  off  the  slate.  There 
were  no  more  mortgages,  no  more  promissory  bills  to 
meet,  no  more  drafts  of  honor.  Debts  as  well  as 
property  were  all  destroyed  together.  The  money- 
lender and  the  borrower  were  destroyed  together. 
The  schools  were  closed — for  how  long?  The  alms- 
houses  were  burned  down — what  became  of  the  poor 
old  bedesmen  and  bedeswomen?  The  City  charities 
were  suspended — what  became  of  the  poor?  The 
houses  were  destroyed  —  what  became  of  rents  and 
tithes  and  taxes  ? 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND 


403 


The  Fire  is  out  at  last ;  the  rain  has  quenched  the 
last  sparks ;  the  embers  have  ceased  to  smoke ;  those 
walls  which  have  not  fallen  totter  and  hang  trembling 
ready  to  fall.  I  see  men  standing  about  singly ;  the 
tears  run  down  their  cheeks ;  two  hundred  years  ago, 
if  we  had  anything  to  cry  about,  we  were  not  ashamed 
to  cry  without  restraint  ;  they  are  dressed  in  broad- 


OLD  GROCERS'  HALL,  USED  FOR  BANK  OF  ENGLAND 


cloth,  the  ruffles  are  of  lace,  they  look  like  reputable 
citizens.  Listen — one  draws  near  another.  "  Neigh- 
bor," he  says,  "  a  fortnight  ago,  before  this  stroke, 
whether  of  God  or  of  Papist,  I  had  a  fair  shop  on  this 
spot."  "And  I  also,  good  friend,"  said  the  other, "  as 
you  know."  "  My  shop,"  continued  the  first,  "  was 
stocked  with  silks  and  satins,  kid  gloves,  lace  ruffles 
and  neckties,  shirts,  and  all  that  a  gentleman  or  a  gen- 
tlewoman can  ask  for.  The  stock  was  worth  a  thou- 
sand pounds.  I  turned  it  over  six  or  seven  times  a 
year  at  least.  And  my  profit  was  four  hundred 


404  LONDON 

pounds."  "  As  for  me,"  said  the  other,  "  I  was  in  a 
smaller  way,  as  you  know.  Yet  such  as  it  was,  my 
fortune  was  all  in  it,  and  out  of  my  takings  I  could 
call  two  hundred  pounds  a  year  my  own."  "  Now  is 
it  all  gone,"  said  the  first.  "  All  gone,"  the  other  re- 
peated, fetching  a  sigh.  "  And  now,  neighbor,  unless 
the  company  help,  I  see  nothing  for  it  but  we  must 
starve."  "  Must  starve,"  the  other  repeated.  And  so 
they  separated,  and  went  divers  ways,  and  whether 
they  starved  or  whether  they  received  help,  and  rose 
from  the  ashes  with .  new  house  and  newly  stocked 
shop,  I  know  not.  Says  Dryden  on  the  Fire : 

'"  Those  who  have  homes,  when  home  they  do  repair 

To  a  last  lodging  call  their  wandering  friends : 
Their  short  uneasy  sleeps  are  broke  with  care 
To  look  how  near  their  own  destruction  tends. 

'"  Those  who  have  none  sit  round  where  it  was 

And  with  full  eyes  each  wonted  room  require : 
Haunting  the  yet  warm  ashes  of  the  place, 
As  murdered  men  walk  where  they  did  expire. 

•"  The  most  in  fields  like  herded  beasts  lie  down, 

To  dews  obnoxious  on  the  grassy  floor : 
And  while  their  babes  in  sleep  their  sorrow  drown, 
Sad  parents  watch  the  remnant  of  their  store." 

I  think  there  must  have  been  a  return  for  a  while 
to  a  primitive  state  of  barter  and  exchange.  Not 
quite,  because  every  man  carried  out  of  the  Fire  such 
money  as  he  had.  Pepys,  for  instance,  placed  his  bags 
of  gold  in  a  cart  and  drove  it  himself,  "  in  my  night 
gown,"  to  a  friend  at  rural  Bethnal  Green.  But  there 
could  have  been  very  little  money  in  comparison  with 
the  millions  invested  in  the  merchandise  destroyed. 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  407 

The  most  pressing  want  was  food.  The  better  sort 
had  money  enough  for  present  needs,  the  poorer  class 
had  to  be  maintained.  The  corporation  set  thou- 
sands to  work  clearing  rubbish,  carting  it  way,  pulling 
down  the  shaky  walls,  and  throwing  open  the  streets. 
When  the  quays  were  cleared,  the  business  of  the 
port  was  resumed.  Then  the  houses  and  the  shops 
began  to  rise.  The  former  were  built  on  credit,  and 
the  latter  stocked  on  credit.  Very  likely  the  com- 
panies or  the  corporation  itself  became  to  a  large  ex- 
tent security,  advancing  money  to  the  builders  and 
making  easy  terms  about  rent.  Naturally,  it  was  a 
time  of  enormous  activity,  every  trader  making  up  for 
lost  time,  and  especially  such  trades  as  concerned  the 
building,  furnishing,  or  fitting  of  houses — a  time  of 
good  wages  and  constant  work.  Indeed,  it  is  stated 
that  the  prosperity  of  the  West  Country  cloth-making 
business  was  never  so  great  as  during  the  years  fol- 
lowing the  Fire,  which  had  destroyed  such  a  prodigious 
quanity  of  material.  The  City  in  time  resumed  its 
old  aspect  ;  the  ruined  thousands  had  sunk  out  of 
sight ;  and  nothing  could  replace  the  millions  that 
had  been  lost. 

The  manners  of  the  City  differed  little  in  essentials 
from  those  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  time.  Let  us  note, 
however,  two  or  three  points,  still  keeping  the  un- 
speakable court  out  of  sight,  and  confining  ourselves 
as  much  as  possible  to  the  City.  Here  are  a  few 
notes  which  must  not  be  taken  as  a  finished  picture  of 
the  time. 

It  was  a  great  time  for  drinking.  Even  grave  divines 
drank  large  quantities  of  wine.  Pepys  is  constantly 
getting  "  foxed "  with  drink;  on  one  occasion  he  is 


408  LONDON 

afraid  of  reading  evening  prayers  lest  the  servants 
should  discover  his  condition.  Of  course  they  did 
discover  it,  and  went  to  bed  giggling;  but  as  they 
kept  no  diary  the  world  never  learned  it.  London 
drank  freely.  Pepys  tells  how  one  lady,  dining  at 
Sir  W.  Bullen's,  drank  at  one  draught  a  pint  and  a 
half  of  white  wine.  They  all  went  to  church  a  great 
deal,  and  had  fast  days  on  every  occasion  of  doubt 
and  difficulty ;  on  the  first  Sunday  in  the  year  the 
longest  Psalm  in  the  book  (I  suppose  the  I  iQth)  was 
given  out  after  the  sermon.  This  took  an  hour  to  say 
or  sing,  and  all  the  while  the  sexton  went  about  the 
church  making  a  collection.  On  Valentine's  Day  the 
married  men  took  each  other's  wives  for  valentines. 
Public  wrestling  matches  were  held,  followed  by  bouts 
with  the  cudgels. 

They  still  carried  on  the  sport  of  bull  and  bear  bait- 
ing, and  on  one  occasion  they  baited  a  savage  horse 
to  death.  That  is,  they  attempted  it,  but  he  drove  off 
all  the  dogs,  and  the  people  insisting  on  his  death, 
they  stabbed  him  to  death.  The  King  issued  two 
patents  for  theatres,  one  to  Henry  Killigrew,  at  Drury 
Lane,  whose  company  called  themselves  The  King's 
Servants  ;  the  other  to  Sir  William  Davenant,  of  Dorset 
Gardens,  whose  company  was  The  Duke's  Servants. 
There  were  still  some  notable  superstitions  left.  These 
are  illustrated  by  the  remedies  advertised  for  the  plague 
and  other  diseases.  A  spider,  for  instance,  placed  in 
a  nutshell  and  wrapped  in  silk  will  cure  ague.  They 
believed  in  the  malignant  influence  of  the  planets. 
One  evening  at  a  dancing  house  half  a  dozen  boys 
and  girls  were  taken  suddenly  ill.  Probably  they  had 
swallowed  some  poisonous  stuff.  They  were  sup- 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  409 

posed  to  be  planet-struck.  And,  of  course,  they  be- 
lieved in  astrology  and  in  chiromancy,  the  latter  of 
which  has  again  come  into  fashion. 

Saturday  was  the  day  of  duns.  Creditors  then  went 
about  collecting  their  money.  In  the  autumn  the 
merchants  rode  out  into  the  country  and  looked  after 
their  country  customers. 

The  social  fabric  of  the  time  cannot  be  understood 
without  remembering  that  certain  nominal  distinc- 
tions of  our  generation  were  then  real  things,  and 
gave  a  man  consideration.  Thus,  there  were  no  peers 
left  living  in  the  City.  But  there  were  a  few  baro- 
nets and  many  knights.  After  them  in  order  came 
esquires,  gentlemen,  and  commoners.  Those  were 
entitled  to  the  title  of  esquire  who  were  gentlemen 
of  good  estate,  not  otherwise  dignified,  counsellors-at- 
law,  physicians  and  holders  of  the  King's  commission. 
Everybody  remembers  Pepys's  delight  at  being  for  the 
first  time,  then  newly  made  Secretary  to  the  Admiral- 
ty, addressed  as  esquire,  and  his  irrepressible  pride  at 
being  followed  into  church  by  a  page.  A  younger 
brother  could  call  himself  a  gentleman,  and  this,  I 
take  it,  whether  he  was  in  trade  or  not.  About  this 
time,  however,  younger  sons  began  leaving  off  going 
to  the  City  and  embarking  in  trade,  and  that  separa- 
tion of  the  aristocracy  from  the  trade  of  the  country, 
which  made  the  former  a  distinct  caste  and  has  lasted 
almost  until  the  present  day,  first  began.  It  is  now, 
however,  so  far  as  one  can  perceive  the  signs  of  the 
times,  fast  disappearing.  The  younger  son,  in  fact, 
began  to  enter  the  army,  the  navy,  or  the  Church. 
From  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century  till  the 
battle  of  Waterloo,  war  in  Europe  was  almost  con- 


410  LONDON 

tinuous.  A  gentleman  could  offer  his  sword  any- 
where and  was  accepted.  There  were  English  gen- 
tlemen in  the  service  of  Austria,  Russia,  Sweden — 
even  in  that  of  France  or  Spain.  Unfortunately, 
however,  in  this  country  we  generally  had  need  of  all 
the  gentlemen  we  could  find  to  command  our  own 
armies.  The  title  of  gentleman  was  also  conceded  to 
attorneys,  notaries,  proctors,  and  other  lesser  degrees 
of  the  law ;  merchants,  surgeons,  tradesmen,  authors, 
artists,  architects,  and  the  like,  had  then,  and  have 
now,  no  rank  of  any  kind  in  consideration  of  their 
employments. 

Tea,  which  at  the  Restoration  was  quite  beyond 
the  means  of  private  persons,  became  rapidly  cheaper 
and  in  daily  use  among  the  better  class  in  London, 
though  not  in  the  country.  Thus,  in  Congreve's  "  Way 
of  the  World,"  Mrs.  Millamant  claims  to  be  "  Sole 
Empress  of  my  tea-table."  Her  lover  readily  con- 
sents to  her  drinking  tea  if  she  agrees  to  a  stipulation 
which  shows  that  the  love  of  tea  was  as  yet  more 
fashionable  than  real,  since  it  could  be  combined  with 
that  of  strong  drinks.  He  says  that  he  must  banish 
from  her  table  "  foreign  forces,  auxiliaries  to  the  tea- 
table,  such  as  orange  brandy,  aniseed,  cinnamon,  cit- 
ron, and  Barbadoes  water,  together  with  ratafia  and 
the  most  noble  spirit  of  clary." 

The  favorite  places  of  resort  in  the  City  were  the 
galleries  of  the  Royal  Exchange,  filled  with  shops  for 
the  sale  of  gloves,  ribbons,  laces,  fans,  scent,  and  such 
things.  The  shops  were  kept  by  young  women  who, 
like  the  modern  bar-maid,  added  the  attraction  of  a 
pretty  face  to  the  beauty  of  their  wares.  The  piazza 
of  Covent  Garden  was  another  favorite  place,  but  this, 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND 


411 


OLD  ST.  PAUL'S,  WITH  THE  PORCH  OF  INIGO  JONES 

with  Spring  Gardens,  Vauxhall,  was  outside  the  City. 
The  old  desecration  of  Paul's  was  to  a  great  extent 
stopped  by  the  erection  of  the  West  Porch,  designed 
for  those  who  met  here  for  purposes  of  business. 

Coffee-houses  were  first  set  up  at  this  time,  and  at 
once  became  indispensable  to  the  citizens,  who  before 
had  had  no  other  place  of  evening  resort  than  the  tav- 
ern. The  City  houses  were  "  Dick's  "  and  the  "  Rain- 
bow," in  Fleet  Street;  "Tom's,"  of  Birchin  Lane  (not 
to  speak  of  the  more  classic  "  Tom's,"  of  Covent  Gar- 
den). Nearly  all  the  old  inns  of  the  City  have  now 


412  LONDON 

been  destroyed.  Fifty  years  ago  many  were  still 
standing,  with  their  galleries  and  their  open  courts. 
Such  were  the  "  Bell,"  of  Warwick  Lane ;  the  "  Belle 
Sauvage,"  of  Ludgate  Hill;  the  "  Blossom,"  Laurence 
Lane  ;  the  "  Black  Lion,"  Whitefriars  Street  ;  the 
"  Four  Swans,"  Bishopsgate  Street  ;  the  "  Saracen's 
Head,"  Friday  Street,  and  many  others. 

"  It  is,  I  suppose,  pretty  clear  that  the  songs  col- 
lected by  Torn  d'Urfey  are  a  fair  representation  of 
the  delectable  and  edifying  ditties  sung  in  taverns,  and 
when  the  society  was  "mixed."  It  would  be  easy  to 
preach  against  the  wickedness  of  the  times  which  could 
permit  the  singing  of  such  songs,  but  in  reality  they 
are  no  worse  than  the  songs  of  the  preceding  genera- 
tion, to  which,  indeed,  many  of  them  belong.  And, 
besides,  it  does  not  appear  that  the  better  sort  of  peo- 
ple regaled  themselves  with  this  kind  of  song  at  all, 
and  even  in  this  collection  there  are  a  great  many 
which  are  really  beautiful.  The  following  pretty  lines 
are  taken  almost  at  random  from  one  of  the  volumes 
of  the  Pills  to  Purge  Melancholy.  They  are  called  a 
"  Description  of  Chloris :" 

"  Have  you  e'er  seen  the  morning  Sun 
From  fair  Aurora's  bosom  run  ? 
Or  have  you  seen  on  Flora's  bed 
The  essences  of  white  and  red  ? 
Then  you  may  boast,  for  you  have  seen 
My  fairer  Chloris,  Beauty's  Queen. 

"  Have  you  e'er  pleas'd  your  skilful  ears 
With  the  sweet  music  of  the  Spheres  ? 
Have  you  e'er  heard  the  Syrens  sing, 
Or  Orpheus  play  to  Hell's  black  King? 
If  so,  be  happy  and  rejoyce, 
For  thou  hast  heard  my  Chloris'  Voice. 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  413 

"  Have  you  e'er  tasted  what  the  Bee 
Steals  from  each  fragrant  flower  or  tree  ? 
Or  did  you  ever  taste  that  meat 
Which  poets  say  the  Gods  did  eat? 
O  then  I  will  no  longer  doubt 
But  you  have  found  my  Chloris  out." 

Many  of  the  poems  are  patriotic  battle-pieces  ;  some 
present  the  shepherd  in  the  usual  fashion  as  consumed 
by  the  ardor  of  his  love,  being  wishing  and  pining, 
sighing  and  weeping.  That  seeming  extravagance  of 
passion — that  talk  of  flames  and  darts — was  not  en- 
tirely conventional : 

"  How  charming  Phillis  is,  how  fair  ! 
O  that  she  were  as  willing 
To  ease  my  wounded  heart  of  care, 
And  make  her  eyes  less  killing!" 

It  was  not  only  exaggeration.  I  am  quite  certain  that 
men  and  women  were  far  less  self -governed  formerly 
than  now :  when,  for  instance,  they  were  in  love,  they 
were  much  more  in  love  than  now.  The  passion  pos- 
sessed them  and  transported  them  and  inflamed  them. 
Their  pangs  of  jealousy  tore  them  to  pieces  ;  they  must 
get  their  mistress  or  they  will  go  mad.  Nay,  it  is  only 
of  late — say  during  the  last  hundred  years — that  we 
have  learned  to  restrain  passions  of  any  kind.  Love, 
jealousy,  envy,  hatred,  were  far  fiercer  emotions  under 
the  Second  Charles — nay,  even  under  the  Second 
George — than  they  are  with  us.  Anger  was  far  more 
common.  It  does  not  seem  as  if  men  and  women, 
especially  of  the  lower  classes,  ever  attempted  in  the 
least  to  restrain  their  passions.  To  be  sure  they  could 
at  once  have  it  out  in  a  fight — a  thing  which  excuses 


414  LONDON 

wrath.  To  inquire  into  the  causes  of  the  universal 
softening  of  manners  would  take  us  too  far.  But  we 
may  note  as  a  certain  fact  that  passions  are  more  re- 
strained and  not  so  overwhelming:  that  love  is  milder, 
wrath  more  governed,  and  that  manners  are  softened 
for  us. 

One  must  not,  again,  charge  the  City  at  this  time 
with  being  more  than  commonly  pestered  by  rogues. 
The  revelations  of  the  Elizabethan  moralists,  and  the 
glimpses  we  get  of  mediaeval  rogues,  forbid  this  accusa- 
tion. At  the  same  time  there  was  a  good  standing 
mass  of  solid  wickedness.  Contemporary  literature 
proves  this,  if  any  proof  were  wanted,  abundantly. 
There  is  a  work  of  some  literary  value  called  the  Life 
of  Meriton  Latroon,  in  which  is  set  forth  an  immense 
quantity  of  rogueries.  Among  other  things  the  writer 
shows  the  tricks  of  trade,  placing  his  characters  in 
many  kinds  of  shops,  so  as  to  give  his  experiences  in 
each.  We  are  thus  enabled  to  perceive  that  there 
were  sharpers  and  cheats  in  respectable-looking  shops 
then,  as  now.  And  there  seems  no  reason  to  believe 
that  the  cheats  were  in  greater  proportion  to  the  hon- 
est men  than  they  are  now.  Besides  the  tricks  of  the 
masters,  the  honest  Meriton  Latroon  shows  us  the 
ways  of  the  London  prentice,  which  were  highly  prom- 
ising for  the  future  of  the  City.  He  robbed  his  mas- 
ter as  much  as  he  dared :  he  robbed  him  of  money ; 
he  robbed  him  of  stuffs  and  goods ;  he  ruined  the 
maids;  he  belonged  to  a  club  which  met  on  Saturday 
nights,  when  the  master  was  at  his  country-box,  and 
exchanged,  for  the  common  good,  the  robberies  of  the 
week.  After  this  they  feasted  and  drank  with  young 
Bona  Robas,  who  stole  from  them  the  money  they  had 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  415 

stolen  from  their  shops.  It  is  a  beautiful  picture,  and 
would  by  some  moralists  be  set  down  to  the  evil  exam- 
ple of  King  Charles,  who  is  generally  held  responsible 
for  the  whole  of  the  wickedness  of  the  people  during 
his  reign.  But  these  prentices  knew  nothing  of  the 
court,  and  the  thing  had  been  going  on  all  through 
the  Protectorate,  and,  for  that  matter,  I  dare  say  as 
far  back  as  the  original  institution  of  apprenticeship. 
One  would  fain  hope  that  not  all  the  City  apprentices 
belonged  to  this  club.  Otherwise,  one  thinks  that 
the  burning  of  London  ought  to  have  been  the  end 
of  London. 

The  worst  vice  of  the  age  seems  to  have  been  gam- 
bling, which  was -as  prevalent  in  the  City  as  at  the 
court;  that  is  to  say,  one  does  not  accuse  sober  mer- 
chants of  gambling,  but  in  every  tavern  there  were 
cards  and  dice,  and  they  were  in  use  all  day  long.  Now, 
wherever  there  is  gambling  there  are  thieves,  sharpers, 
and  cheats  by  profession,  and  in  every  age  these  gentry 
enjoy  their  special  names,  whether  of  opprobrium  or 
of  endearment.  They  were  then  called  Huffs,  Rooks, 
Pads,  Pimpinios,  Philo  Puttonists,  Ruffins,  Shabba- 
roons,  Rufflers,  and  other  endearing  terms — not  that 
the  number  of  the  names  proves  the  extent  of  the 
evil.  Whatever  they  were  called,  the  whole  object  of 
their  lives — their  only  way  of  living — was  to  trick,  ex- 
tort, or  coax  money  out  of  flats.  Very  often  they 
were  gentlemen  by  birth,  younger  sons  of  good  fam- 
ilies, who  scorned  any  honest  way  of  making  their 
living.  By  their  good  manners,  fashionable  appear- 
ance, pleasing  address,  and  known  connections  they 
often  succeeded  in  getting  hold  of  unsuspecting  gen- 
tlemen from  the  country.  It  is  the  old,  old  story. 


416  LONDON 

Captain  Hawk  is  always  on  the  lookout  for  Master 
Pigeon,  and  too  often  catches  him.  The  story  that 
Thackeray  has  told  belongs  not  to  one  period,  but 
to  all.  Of  course  there  was  the  lower  class  of  rogues: 
the  sturdy  beggar,  the  man  who  cannot  work  be- 
cause he  has  in  his  blood  the  taint  of  whole  gen- 
erations of  idleness  ;  the  nomad,  who  would  die  unless 
he  were  always  roving  about  the  country ;  the  outcast, 
who  delights  in  pitting  his  wits  against  the  law.  A 
few  of  these  I  have  chosen  from  the  long  lists.  They 
are  as  follows : 

The  "  Ruffler,"  who  pretended  to  be  an  old  soldier 
of  Naseby  or  Marston  Moor. 

The  "  Angler,"  who  carried  a  stick  with  a  hook  at 
the  end  of  it,  and  found  it  useful  when  the  window 
was  left  open. 

The  "  Wild  Rogue,"  used  for  boys  and  girls,  chil- 
dren of  thieves,  who  made  a  good  living  for  their  par- 
ents by  hanging  about  the  doors  of  crowded  churches, 
and  cutting  off  gold  buttons  from  the  coats  of  the 
merchants. 

The  "  Clapperdozen,"  a  woman  who  begged  about 
the  streets  with  stolen  children. 

The  "Abram  Man,"  a  sham  madman. 

The  "Whip  Jack,"  a  counterfeit  sailor  who  pretend- 
ed to  be  shipwrecked. 

The  "  Mumpus,"  who  pretended  to  be  a  decayed 
merchant  or  a  sequestered  clergyman. 

The  "  Dommerer,"  who  shammed  dumb. 

Let  us  turn  from  general  statements  to  the  con- 
sideration of  a  single  family.  That  of  Samuel  Pepys 
might  be  taken  as  an  example,  and  his  Journal  is  by  no 
means  well-trodden  and  familiar  ground.  In  fact,  he 


CHARLES    THE    SECOND  417 

is  generally  read  in  bits,  for  half  an  hour's  amusement. 
Yet  it  is  better  to  take  a  case  not  before  the  public  at 
all.  Besides,  even  a  minute  diary  such  as  that  of 
Pepys,  kept  day  by  day,  leaves,  when  you  come  to 
construct  the  daily  life  out  of  it,  great  gaps  here  and 
there.  Less  literary  documents  may  sometimes  yield 
richer  results.  Even  the  most  careful  diarist  scorns  to 
speak  of  details.  For  them  we  must  look  into  the 
humble  papers  of  the  household.  For  instance,  I  have 
before  me  a  bundle  of  documents  on  which  I  lighted 
by  accident,  containing  the  household  accounts  of  a 
respectable  family  for  the  years  1677-1679,  and  I  pro- 
pose by  means  of  these  accounts  to  reproduce  the 
household  daily  life  of  a  bourgeois  well-to-do  family 
of  the  time. 

This  family  consisted  of  the  master,  the  mistress,  and 
"  Mr.  Arthur,"  who  was  probably  the  master's  brother. 
The  two  former  were  at  this  time  a  young  married 
couple,  whose  joys  and  anxieties  are  presently  increased 
by  the  arrival  of  a  baby.  Their  residence  is  a  'short 
distance  from  London,  and  their  way  of  life  may  be 
taken  to  illustrate  that  of  the  general  run  of  London 
citizens.  The  occupation  of  the  master  is  not  stated, 
but  he  appears  to  be  a  man  following  no  profession  or 
trade :  perhaps  a  gentleman  with  a  small  estate.  They 
seem  to  have  kept  no  horses,  so  that  their  means  were 
certainly  narrow.  Their  nearest  market -town  was 
Hertford,  whither  they  went  by  coach  (fare  one  shil- 
ling) to  buy  what  they  wanted.  Their  house-keeping 
was  conducted  with  an  eye  to  economy,  yet  there  is 
no  stint,  and  occasionally  there  occurs  an  entry — 
quite  inexplicable — of  wild  extravagance.  They  lived 
in  the  country,  about  fifteen  miles  from  London,  and 
27 


418  LONDON 

presumably  had  a  garden,  yet  they  did  not  grow 
enough  vegetables,  herbs,  and  fruit  for  their  own  con- 
sumption. The  household  consisted,  besides  the  fam- 
ily and  the  nurse,  of  a  cook,  two  maids,  and  a  gardener, 
or  man  of  all  work.  The  accounts  are  partly  kept  by 
the  mistress  and  partly  by  a  servant — perhaps  a  house- 
keeper. Remembering  that  Pepys  consented  to  re- 
ceive his  sister  "Pall"  into  his  house  only  on  the  foot- 
ing of  a  servant,  the  keeper  of  the  accounts  may  very 
well  have  been  a  poor  relation. 

The  rent  of  the  house  was  £26  a  year.  It  contained 
two  sitting-rooms  and  four  bedrooms,  with  a  kitchen. 
The  parlor,  or  best  sitting-room,  was  hung  with  five 
pieces  of  fine  tapestry ;  the  other  sitting-room  with 
gray  linsey-woolsey  and  gilt  leather;  the  bedrooms 
had  hangings  of  striped  cloth.  Curtains  of  green  cloth 
with  a  green  carpet  decorated  the  parlor;  the  other 
•  rooms  had  green,  say,  or  "sad  color"  striped  curtains. 
The  best  bedroom  contained  a  magnificent  "wrought" 
— i.e.,  carved — bedstead  with  a  canopy,  curtains,  a  val- 
ance, and  chairs  all  of  the  same  material.  There  were 
three  other  bedrooms,  one  for  Mr.  Arthur,  one  for  the 
nurse  and  the  baby,  unless  they  slept  at  the  foot  of  the 
big  bed,  and  one  for  the  maids.  The  gardener  slept 
out  of  the  house.  The  furniture  of  the  parlor  consist- 
ed of  one  central  table — the  dining-table  —  a  table 
with  a  drawer,  a  cupboard,  a  clock  case,  a  leather  chair, 
a  plush  chair,  six  green  cloth  chairs,  and  two  green 
stools.  The  carpet  and  curtains  have  been  already 
mentioned  ;  there  were  no  pictures,  no  cabinets,  no 
book-shelves,  no  mirrors,  no  sofas.  The  other  room 
was  more  simply  furnished  with  a  Spanish  table,  a 
plain  table,  and  a  few  chairs.  Two  of  the  bedrooms 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  419 

had  looking-glasses,  and  there  was  a  very  generous 
provision  of  feather-beds,  bolsters,  pillows,  and  blank- 
ets, which  speaks  of  comfort  for  the  night. 

The  inventory  of  the  kitchen  furniture  is,  unfortu- 
nately, incomplete.  There  is  no  mention  at  all  made 
of  any  china-ware.  Yet  porcelain  was  by  this  time  in 
common  use.  It  was  made  at  Bow  and  at  Chelsea. 
In  middle-class  houses  the  master  and  mistress  used 
it  at  table,  while  servants  and  children  still  had  pewter 
or  even  wooden  platters.  The  inventory  speaks  of 
porringers,  doubtless  of  wood,  of  pewter  candlesticks 
—  there  are  no  brass  candlesticks — of  a  three-pint 
pewter  pot,  of  a  great  and  little  bowl — for  possets  and 
hot  spiced  ale  —  and  of  wooden  platters.  Nothing  is 
said  of  silver;  there  are  no  silver  cups — in  the  century 
before  this  no  respectable  householder  was  without 
one  silver  mazer  at  least ;  there  are  no  silver  candle- 
sticks ;  there  is  no  mention  of  forks.  Now  the  two- 
pronged  fork  of  steel  was  made  in  Sheffield  certainly 
in  the  middle  of  the  century.  It  would  be  curious  if 
the  ordinary  household  still  kept  up  the  old  fashion  of 
eating  without  forks  so  late  as  1677. 

Such  was  the  equipment  of  the  house,  one  sitting- 
room,  and  one  bedroom  handsomely,  the  rest  plainly, 
furnished. 

The  first  thing  which  strikes  one  in  the  accounts  is 
the  enormous  consumption  of  beer.  The  household 
drank  two  kilderkins,  or  thirty- six  gallons,  of  beer 
every  week !  One  hundred  and  forty-four  quarts  a 
week !  Twenty-one  quarts  a  day !  It  means  nearly 
three  quarts  a  head.  This  seems  impossible.  There 
must  have  been  some  external  assistance.  Perhaps 
the  master  had  some  kind  of  farm,  or  employed  other 


420  LONDON 

servants.  But  it  is  not  really  impossible.  We  must 
remember  that  there  was  no  tea,  that  people  would 
not  drink  water  if  they  could  get  anything  else,  and 
that  small  beer  was  the  national  beverage,  taken  with 
every  meal,  and  between  meals,  and  that  the  allowance 
was  practically  &  discretion.  It  was  certainly  quite  pos- 
sible, and  even  common,  for  a  man  to  drink  three 
quarts  a  day.  A  hundred  years  later  Benjamin  Frank- 
lin describes  the  daily  beer- drinking  in  a  London 
printing-house.  The  men  took  a  pint  before  break- 
fast, a  pint  with  breakfast,  a  pint  between  breakfast 
and  dinner,  a  pint  at  dinner,  a  pint  at  six,  and  a  pint 
when  work  was  knocked  off.  This  makes  three  quarts, 
without  counting  any  beer  that  might  be  taken  in  the 
evening.  In  the  well-known  and  often-quoted  account 
of  Mr.  Hastings  (Hutchin's  History  of  Dorsetshire), 
who  lived  over  a  hundred  years,  it  is  recorded  of  him 
that  he  would  take  his  glass  or  two  of  wine  or  strong 
ale  at  dinner,  but  that  he  always  had  beside  him  his 
great  "tun -glass"  filled  with  small  beer,  which  he 
stirred  with  rosemary.  But,  even  if  the  men  drank 
three  quarts  a  day,  the  women  could  not. 

In  addition  to  the  small  beer,  which  cost  threepence 
a  gallon,  there  are  continual  entries  of  ale  at  twopence 
a  quart.  This  was  bought  at  the  tavern.  There  were 
many  kinds  of  ale,  as  cock  ale,  college  ale,  worm- 
wood ale,  sage  ale,  and  scurvy-grass  ale,  some  of  them 
medicated,  to  be  taken  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year. 
There  was  also  wine,  but  not  much.  Occasionally 
they  bought  a  cask — a  tierce  of  forty-two  gallons — 
and  bottled  it  at  home.  The  kind  of  wine  is  not 
stated.  Sometimes  they  send  out  to  the  nearest 
tavern  for  a  bottle,  and  it  cost  a  shilling. 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  42! 

The  accounts  seem  to  set  down  everything  wanted 
for  the  conduct  of  a  house  ;  every  week,  however,  there 
is  an  unexplained  item,  called  "  cook's  bill."  This,  I 
triink,  is  the  separate  account  of  the  servants'  table. 
The  "  cook's  bill  "  amounts  every  week  to  a  good  sum, 
a  little  above  or  a  little  below  a  pound.  Perhaps  it 
contained  the  wages  as  well  as  the  board.  The  amount 
of  food  entered  certainly  does  not  seem  enough  for 
the  servants  as  well  as  the  family. 

During  the  winter  they  bought  no  fresh  beef  at  all. 
In  November  they  bought  great  pieces,  thirty,  forty, 
even  seventy  pounds  at  a  time.  This  was  for  the 
pickling-tub.  Boiled  beef  played  -a  great  part  in  the 
winter's  dinners.  If  they  drank  enormous  quantities 
of  beer  they  managed  with  very  little  bread,  I  find 
that,  taking  ten  consecutive  weeks,  they  spent  no  more 
than  eight  shillings  upon  bread.  The  price  of  wheat 
was  then  subject  to  very  great  variations.  For  ex- 
ample : 

In  the  year  1675  it  was  £3      4s-  &£  the  quarter. 

1676     "          i     18     o 
"          1677     "          22-0  " 

"  1678       "  2      19       O 

In  other  words,  it  was  dearer  in  1678  than  it  is  in 
1890,  and  that  when  the  purchasing  power  of  money 
was  four  times  what  it  is  now.  Now  it  may  be  reck- 
oned that  in  a  house  where  there  are  children  the 
average  consumption  of  bread  is  at  this  day  ten 
pounds  weight  a  head.  In  this  household  of  seven 
the  average  consumption  was  no  more  than  eight 
pounds  altogether.  Setting  aside  the  servants,  the 
family  had  no  more  than  two  pounds  of  bread  apiece 


422  LONDON 

every  week,  or  four  and  a  half  ounces  a  day,  which  is 
one  slice  not  too  thick.  Oat  cake,  however,  they  used 
in  good  quantity,  so  that  the  bread  would  be  con- 
sidered as  a  luxury. 

The  old  vice  of  the  English  in  eating  vast  quantities 
of  meat  to  very  little  bread  or  vegetable  could  no 
longer  be  a  reproach  to  them.  By  this  time  there  was 
abundance  of  vegetables  of  every  kind.  We  are  es- 
pecially told  that  in  the  serving  of  the  boiled  beef 
great  quantities  of  vegetables,  carrots,  parsnips,  cauli- 
flowers, cabbage,  spinach,  beans,  peas,  etc.,  were  served 
with  it,  and  so  also  with  other  meat.-  There  is  no 
mention  of  potatoes,  though  one  had  always  thought 
that  they  were  firmly  established  in  the  country  by 
this  time.  Their  own  garden  was  not  able  to  furnish 
them  with  enough  fruit  or  vegetables,  which  they 
have  to  buy  constantly.  They  also  buy  nosegays  in 
the  summer. 

The  prices  of  things  in  the  time  of  Charles  the 
Second,  may  be  found  interesting.  In  considering 
them,  remember,  as  stated  above,  that  the  general  pur- 
chasing power  of  money  was  then  four  times  that  of 
the  present  time.  A  leg  of  mutton  generally  costs  two- 
and-sixpence ;  a  shoulder,  two  shillings;  a  hand  of  pork, 
eighteenpence ;  "  a  cheese  " — they  had  one  every  week, 
but  it  is  not  stated  how  much  it  weighed — varies  from 
one-and-twopence  to  one-and-eightpence.  Butter  is 
eight  or  nine  pence  a  pound  ;  they  used  about  a  pound 
a  week.  Sugar  is  sixpence  a  pound.  They  bought  their 
flour  by  sixpennyworths,  and  their  coals  in  small 
quantities  for  eighteenpence  each  week  during  the 
winter,  so  that  their  fires  must  have  been  principally 
kept  going  with  wood.  Once  a  month  the  washer- 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  423 

woman  is  called  in,  and  sheets  are  washed ;  therefore, 
the  washing  was  all  done  at  home.  Raisins  and  cur- 
rants at  twopence  a  pound,  eggs,  nutmegs,  ginger, 
mace,  rice,  suet,  etc.,  proclaim  the  pudding.  It  was 
made  in  fifty  different  ways,  but  the  ingredients  were 
always  the  same,  and  in  this  family  they  evidently  had 
pudding  every  day.  Cakes,  also,  they  had,  and  pies, 
both  fruit  pies  and  meat  pies,  and  open  tarts.  These 
were  all  sent  to  the  bake-house  to  be  baked  at  one 
penny  each,  so  that  the  kitchen  contained  no  oven. 
Candles  were  fivepence  a  pound,  but  the  entries  of 
candles  are  so  irregular  that  one  suspects  the  accounts 
to  be  imperfect.  Herrings  were  bought  nearly  every 
week,  and  sometimes  ling — "a  pole  of  ling."  Bacon 
was  sevenpence  a  pound.  Rice  was  also  sevenpence  a 
pound.  Oranges  came  in  about  December;  cherries 
in  their  season  were  twopence  a  pound  ;  gooseberries, 
fourpence,  sold,  I  suppose,  by  the  measure  ;  pease,  six- 
pence a  peck ;  beans,  fourpence  a  quart ;  asparagus 
("  sparragrasse  ")  was  in  April  excessively  dear  —  we 
find  them  giving  six  shillings  and  twopence,  a  most 
extravagant  expenditure  for  a  single  dish ;  two  weeks 
later  it  has  gone  down  to  eighteenpence  for  two  hun- 
dred. But  how  could  so  careful  a  housewife  spend  six 
and  twopence  on  a  single  dish?  A  "sallet" — -that  is,  a 
lettuce — is  one  penny.  Once  in  six  weeks  or  so  we  find 
mention  of  "earbs" — that  is,  thyme,  sage,  rosemary, 
etc. — for  twopence.  "  Cowcumbers  "  are  a  penny  apiece, 
and  a  favorite  vegetable.  Radishes,  carrots,  turnips, 
French  beans  are  also  bought.  In  the  spring  cream- 
cheese  appears.  Sweet  brier  is  bought  every  year, 
one  knows  not  for  what,  and  roses  by  the  bushel,  evi- 
dently for  rose-water.  This  is  the  only  allusion  to  the 


424  LONDON 

still-room,  which  undoubtedly  formed  part  of  the 
manage.  Nothing  is  said  of  preserved  fruits,  home- 
made wines,  distilled  waters,  or  pickles,  which  then 
formed  a  great  part  of  house-keeping.  They  pickled 
everything:  walnuts,  gherkins,  asparagus,  peaches, 
cauliflowers,  plums,  nectarines,  onions,  lemons,  bar- 
berries, mushrooms,-  nasturtium  buds,  lime-tree  buds, 
oysters,  samphire,  elder  roots.  They  distilled  rose- 
buds and  rose-leaves,  lavender,  walnut -water,  and 
cherry-water.  They  always  had  plague-water  handy, 
hysterical-water,  and  other  sovereign  remedies.  They 
"  jarred "  cherries,  quinces,  hops,  apricots,  damsons, 
and  peaches.  They  made  syrups  in  many  pleasing 
varieties.  They  knew  how  to  keep  green  pease,  green 
gooseberries,  asparagus,  and  damsons  till  Christmas. 
They  made  wine  out  of  all  the  fruits  in  their  season  ; 
the  art  still  survives,  though  the  club-man  of  the  town 
turns  up  his  nose  at  the  delicate  cowslip,  the  robust 
ginger,  and  the  dainty  raspberry  —  a  dessert  wine. 
They  potted  everything,  from  pigeon  to  venison. 
Nothing  is  said  of  these  things  in  the  account-books. 
But  the  large  quantity  of  vinegar  bought  every  week 
shows  the  activity  of  the  pickling  department.  Only 
once  is  there  any  appearance  of  spirits.  It  is  when  a 
bottle  of  brandy  is  bought,  at  one  shilling  and  two- 
pence. Perhaps  that  was  used  to  fortify  the  raspberry 
and  the  currant  wines.  Very  little  milk  is  bought. 
Sometimes  for  many  months  there  is  no  mention  of 
milk.  This  may  have  been  because  their  own  dairy 
supplied  them.  Perhaps,  however,  milk  was  only  oc- 
casionally used  in  the  house.  The  food  of  very  young 
children,  infants  after  they  were  weaned,  was  not  then 
milk  but  pap,  which  I  suppose  to  have  been  some 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  425 

compound  of  flour  and  sugar.  There  is  no  mention  in 
the  accounts  at  all  of  tea,  coffee,  or  chocolate.  Tea 
was  already  a  fashionable  drink,  but  at  this  time  it 
was  sixty  shillings  a  pound — a  price  which  placed  it 
quite  beyond  the  reach  of  the  ordinary  household. 
Coffee  was  much  cheaper ;  at  the  coffee-houses  it  was 
sold  at  a  penny  a  cup,  but  it  had  not  yet  got  into 
private  houses. 

Turning  to  other  things  besides  food.  Schooling 
"  for  E.  J."  was  twopence  a  week.  His  shoes  were  one 
shilling  and  ninepence  the  pair.  The  cobbler  who 
made  them  was  Goodman  Archer  ;  Goody  Archer  was 
his  wife.  A  letter  cost  twopence  or  fourpence  ;  every- 
thing bought  or  ordered  was  brought  by  the  carrier, 
which  greatly  increased  the  expense ;  a  lady's  gloves 
cost  two  shillings  a  pair;  her  silk  stockings,  ten  shillings, 
and  ordinary  stockings,  six  shillings  a  pair;  her  shoes, 
three  shillings  ;  her  mask,  one  shilling ;  her  pattens  for 
muddy  weather  were  two  shillings  a  pair;  her  knitting- 
needles  cost  a  penny  apiece ;  her  steel  bodkin,  two- 
pence; her  needles,  eightpence  the  half-hundred;  her 
pins,  ninepence  a  thousand  ;  her  ribbons,  threepence  a 
yard.  As  for  the  little  things  required  for  the  house, 
they  were  far  dearer  than  now,  considering  especially 
'the  value  of  money.  For  instance,  a  mop  cost  a  shil- 
ling; a  pitcher,  fivepence;  glasses,  one  shilling  and 
eightpence  each ;  an  earthenware  pan,  fourpence ;  a 
broom,  sixpence ;  a  mustard-pot,  one  shilling  and  six- 
pence; a  padlock,  tenpenee ;  a  mouse-trap,  tenpence; 
eleven  shillings  were  given  for  a  pair  of  candlesticks, 
probably  of  brass.  Holland  was  two  shillings  a  yard ; 
a  "  newsbook  "  cost  a  penny.  On  one  occasion — only 
once — it  is  recorded  that  the  family  bought  a  book. 


426  LONDON 

Only  one,  and  then  it  was  so  expensive  that  they 
could  never  afford  to  buy  another.  This  is  the  entry : 
"  Paid  a  gentleman  for  a  book,  ,£3  los.  od"  What 
book,  one  asks  in  wonder,  could  be  worth  seventy 
shillings  in  the  year  1678  —  that  is,  about  .£15  of 
present  money  —  to  a  man  who  was  neither  a  scholar 
nor  a  collector? 

The  servants  were  up  and  took  their  breakfast  at 
six  in  the  winter  and  at  five  in  the  summer.  The 
family  breakfasted  at  eight.  They  had,  for  the  most 
part,  cold  meat  and  beer  with  oat-cake.  Pepys  tells 
us  of  a  breakfast  of  cold  turkey-pie  and  goose — imag- 
ine a  poor,  weak  creature  of  this  generation  making  a 
breakfast  of  turkey-pie  and  goose,  or  of  goose  alone, 
with  small  beer!  At  another  time  he  had  bread  and 
butter,  sweetmeats,  and  strong  drinks.  And  on  an- 
other occasion  he  sat  down  to  a  table  spread  with 
oysters,  anchovies,  and  neats'  tongues,  with  wine  "  of 
all  sort." 

At  two  o'clock  dinner  was  served.  If  it  was  boiled- 
beef  day,  the  broth  was  served  in  porringers,  bread  or 
oat-cake  being  crumbled  into  it  with  herbs.  When  it 
was  not  boiled-beef  day,  they  had  fresh  meat  or  poul- 
try (the  latter  only  seldom),  and,  in  season,  what  are 
called  in  the  accounts  "  pateridges  "• — it  really  mat- 
ters little  how  a  bird  is  spelled,  provided  it  is  well 
cooked  and  ready  to  be  eaten.  The  invariable  rule 
of  the  house  was  to  have  two  jdints  a  week,  mutton, 
veal,  pork,  or  poultry.  This  provided  four  dinners,  or 
perhaps  five.  The  other  two  or  three  dinners  were 
consecrated  to  boiled  beef.  Calf's  head  and  bacon 
was  (deservedly)  a  favorite  dish ;  they  did  not  disdain 
tripe ;  black  puddings  were  regarded  with  affection ; 


CHARLES   THE    SECOND  427 

a  hog's  cheek  was  reckoned  a  toothsome  kickshaw ; 
anchovies,  prawns,  and  lobsters  are  also  mentioned 
with  commendation.  On  most  days  they  had  a  pud- 
ding— the  good  old  English  pudding,  boiled  or  baked, 
with  raisins  and  "  currance  "  in  it,  flour,  eggs,  butter, 
sugar,  nutmeg,  mace,  ginger,  suet,  and  sometimes 
milk  —  a  famous  pudding  of  which  no  one  was  ever 
tired. 

The  menu  of  a  dinner  where  there  was  company  is 
preserved  in  Pepys.  Everything  was  served  at  once. 
They  had  marrow- bones,  a  leg  of  mutton,  three  pul- 
lets, and  a  dozen  larks  in  one  dish,  a  tart,  a  neat's 
tongue,  anchovies,  and  a  dish  of  prawns,  and  cheese. 
This  was  for  thirteen  persons. 

The  dishes  were  served  in  pewter,  as  they  are  still 
for  the  students  in  the  hall  of  Lincoln's  Inn.  The 
supper,  of  which  very  little  is  said,  was  like  the  break- 
fast, but  not  quite  so  solid.  Cheese  played  a  large 
part  in  the  supper,  and  in  summer  "  a  sallet " — cost, 
one  penny — or  a  dish  of  "  redishes  "  helped  out  the 
cold  meat.  After  supper  a  cool  tankard  of  ale — not 
small  beer — stood  within  the  master's  reach  while  he 
took  his  pipe  of  tobacco.  In  the  winter  there  was  a 
posset  or  a  toasted  crab  in  the  jug. 

One  is  sorry  to  part  with  this  interesting  family, 
but,  unfortunately,  further  information  is  lacking;  I 
could  give  the  inventory  of  the  master's  linen  and 
that  of  his  wife,  but  these  details  want  general  inter- 
est. So  they  disappear,  the  master,  the  mistress,  Mr. 
Arthur,  and  the  baby.  Let  us  hope  that  they  all  en- 
joyed a  long  life  and  prospered  exceedingly.  After 
pondering  so  long  over  their  account-books,  one  seems 
to  know  them  so  well.  They  have  become  personal 


428  '    LONDON 

friends.  They  sit  on  the  green  cloth  chairs  in  the 
room  with  the  green  carpet  and  the  green  curtains 
and  the  fine  tapestry.  The  chairs  are  high  and  straight 
in  the  back.  Madam  has  her  knitting  in  her  lap. 
The  master  and  Mr.  Arthur  sit  on  opposite  sides  of 
the  fire,  their  heads  adorned  with  beautiful  flowing 
perriwigs  of  brown  hair,  their  own  color,  which  they 
have  curled  every  week  at  an  expense  of  twopence. 
They  are  sipping  hot  spiced  ale  and  talking  of  last 
Sunday  morning's  sermon.  They  are  grave  and  re- 
sponsible people,  rather  fat  in  the  cheeks  because  they 
take  so  little  exercise  and  so  much  beer.  In  the  win- 
dow stands  a  row  of  books.  Among  them  was  Jere- 
my Taylor's  Holy  Living  and  Dying,  Herrick's  Hes- 
perides,  Baxter's  Saints'  Rest,  Braith white's  Arcadian 
Princess,  Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  the  first  edition  in 
ten  books ;  a  Book  of  Husbandry,  a  Prophetical  Al- 
manack— that  of  Montelion  —  and  I  suppose,  if  we 
only  knew  it,  the  book  for  which  they  paid  the  "  gen- 
tleman "  .£3  105. — was  it  a  Bible,  illustrated  ?  It  is  only 
seventeen  years  since  the  commonwealth ;  there  are 
Puritans  still ;  their  talk  chiefly  turns  on  godly  mat- 
ters ;  the  clamor  and  the  scandal  of  the  Court  hardly 
so  much  as  reaches  their  ears.  The  clouds  roll  over; 
they  are  gone.  Oh,  world  of  change  and  fleeting 
shadows !  Whither  do  they  go,  the  flying  shadows, 
the  ghosts,  the  groups  and  pictures  of  the  men  and 
women  that  flit  before  our  eyes  when  we  raise  the 
wizard's  wand  and  conjure  up  the  spirits  of  the  past? 


IX 

GEORGE    THE   SECOND 

FROM  the  accession  of  the  First  to  the  death  of 
the  Fourth  George  very  little  change  took  place 
in  the  outward  appearance  or  the  customs  of  London 
and  its  people.  Not  that  these  kings  could  have  had 
anything  to  do  with  the  manners  or  the  changes  of 
the  City.  The  first  two  Georges  were  Germans  who 
understood  not  their  chief  town,  and  had  neither  love 
nor  fear  for  the  citizens,  such  as  possessed  the  Plan- 
tagenets,  the  Tudors,  and  the  Stuarts.  There  was 
little  change,  because  the  forces  that  produce  change 
were  working  slowly.  Ideas,  for  instance,  are  always 
changing,  but  the  English  people  are  slow  to  catch 
the  new  ideas.  They  were  born  in  this  country,  but 
they  were  developed  in  France,  and  they  produced 
the  French  Revolution.  For  this  they  were  sup- 
pressed in  England,  only  to  grow  and  spread  more 
rapidly  underground,  and  to  produce  changes  of  a 
more  stable  kind  than  the  effervescence  of  the  First 
Republic. 

There  was  little  communication  between  town  and 
town  or  between  town  and  country.  The  rustic  never 
left  his  native  village  unless  he  enlisted.  Then  he 


430  LONDON 

never  returned.  The  mechanic  lived  out  his  life  over 
his  work  on  the  spot  where  he  was  born  and  where  he 
was  brought  up.  The  London  shopkeeper  never 
went  farther  afield  than  Hampstead,  and  generally 
found  sufficient  change  of  air  at  Bagnigge  Wells  or 
in  Moorfields.  If  wealth  and  trade  increased,  which 
they  did  by  leaps  and  bounds,  it  was  still  on  the  old 
lines :  the  City  jealous  of  its  rights,  the  masters  keep- 
ing the  wealth  for  themselves,  and  the  men  remaining 
in  silence  and  submission. 

One  important  change  may,  however,  be  noted. 
The  City  had  by  this  time  ceased  altogether  to  attract 
the  younger  sons  of  the  country  gentry ;  the  old  con- 
nection, therefore,  between  London  and  the  counties 
was  severed.  The  chief  reason  was  that  the  continual 
wars  of  the  century  found  employment  and  a  career 
for  all  the  younger  sons  in  the  services,  and  that  the 
value  of  land  went  up  enormously.  Trade  was  no 
longer  recruited  from  the  better  sort,  class  distinctions 
were  deepened  and  more  sharply  defined  even  among 
the  middle  class :  a  barrister  looked  down  upon  a 
merchant,  and  would  not  shake  hands  with  an  attor- 
ney, while  a  simple  clergyman  would  not  associate 
with  a  man  in  business.  Sydney  Smith,  for  instance, 
refused  to  stay  a  night  at  a  country-house  because  its 
owner  was  a  banker  and  a  tradesman.  The  real  ex- 
tent of  the  contempt  with  which  trade  was  regarded, 
and  the  width  of  the  breach  between  the  court  and 
the  City,  was  illustrated  when  the  corporation  enter- 
tained the  Queen  on  her  accession  at  Guildhall,  when 
the  Lord  Mayor  and  the  corporation,  the  givers  of 
the  feast,  were  actually  set  down  at  a  lower  table  sep- 
arate from  the  Queen  their  guest !  Think  of  that 


GEORGE    THE   SECOND  431 

other  great  dinner  chronicled  above,  where  the  mayor 
entertained  four  kings  and  played  cards  with  them  af- 
ter dinner ! 

Iji  the  picture  of  London  just  before  the  present 
age  we  will  confine  ourselves  as  much  as  possible  to 
the  life  of  the  bourgeois.  For  the  court,  for  the  life 
of  the  aristocracy,  the  statesmen,  the  poets,  the  schol- 
ars, the  artists  —  they  are  sufficiently  written  about 
elsewhere.  Here  we  will  keep  as  much  as  we  can  to 
the  great  mass  of  the  London  citizens  who  know 
nothing  of  court  and  noble,  but  are  sober,  hard-work- 
ing, honest  folk,  their  chief  care  being  to  pay  their 
way,  avoid  bankruptcy,  and  amass  a  certain  sum  of 
money  before  they  die ;  their  chief  subject  of  admira- 
tion being  the  man  who  leaves  behind  him  a  great 
fortune  made  in  trade ;  their  chief  pleasures  being 
those  of  the  table. 

First,  for  the  extent  of  the  City. 

London  in  1750  was  spreading,  but  not  yet  rapidly. 
East  and  west  it  spread,  not  north  and  south.  East- 
ward the- City  had  thrown  out  a  long  arm  by  the  river- 
side. St.  Katherine's  Precinct  was  crowded ;  streets, 
two  or  three  deep,  stretched  along  the  river -bank  as 
far  as  Limehouse,  but  no  farther.  These  were  inhab- 
ited by  the  people  who  made  their  living  on  the  river. 
Immediately  north  of  these  streets  stretched  a  great 
expanse  of  market- gardens  and  fields.  Whitechapel 
was  already  a  crowded  suburb,  filled  with  working- 
men.  This  was  one  of  the  quarters  where  the  Lon- 
don mob  was  born  and  bred,  and  free  from  interfer- 
ence of  clergy  or  rich  folk.  Clerkenwell,  with  the 
parts  about  Smithfield,  was  another  district  dear  to 
thieves,  pickpockets,  and  rowdies.  Within  its  boun- 


432 


LONDON 


HOUSES  IN  ST.  KATHERINE'S,  PULLBD  DOWN  IN  1827 

daries  the  City  was  well  and  carefully  ordered.  Un- 
fortunately, this  order  did  not  extend  beyond  the 
walls.  Outside  there  were  no  companies,  no  small 
parishes,  no  rich  merchants,  no  charities,  schools,  or 
endowments,  and  practically  it  was  without  churches. 
On  the  north  side,  Moorfields  still  remained  an  open 
space ;  beyond  lay  Hoxton  Fields,  White  Conduit 
Fields,  Lamb's  Conduit  Fields,  and  Marylebone  Fields. 
The  suburb  of  Bloomsbury  was  beginning.  A  crowd- 
ed suburb  had  sprung  up  north  of  the  Strand.  West- 
minster was  a  great  city  by  itself.  Southwark,  now  a 
borough  with  half  a  million  people,  as  great  as  Liver- 
pool, occupied  then  a  little  strip  of  marshy  land  not 
half  a  mile  broad  at  its  widest.  East  and  west,  to 
Lambeth  on  the  one  side  and  to  Redriff  on  the  other, 


GEORGE   THE   SECOND  433 

was  a  narrow  strip  of  river-side,  dotted  with  houses 
and  hamlets. 

The  walls  of  the  City  were  never  formally  pulled 
down.  They  disappeared  bit  by  bit.  Houses  were 
built  close  to  them  and  upon  them :  they  were  cov- 
ered up.  Excavations  constantly  bring  to  light  some 
of  the  foundations.  When  a  church-yard  was  placed 
against  the  wall,  as  at  St.  Giles's,  Cripplegate,  and  at 
St.  Alphege,  London  Wall,  some  portions  were  al- 
lowed to  remain.  The  course  of  the  wall  is  perfectly 
well  known,  and  has  often  been  mapped.  It  is  strange, 
however,  that  the  corporation  should  have  been  so 
careless  as  to  make  no  attempt  at  all  to  preserve  some 
portions  of  this  most  interesting  monument. 

The  gates  still  stood,  and  were  closed  at  sunset, 
until  the  year  1760.  Then  they  were  all  pulled  down, 
and  the  materials  sold.  Temple  Bar,  which  was  never 
a  City  gate,  properly  speaking,  remained  until  the 
other  day.  The  gates  were,  I  suppose,  an  obstruction 
to  traffic,  yet  one  regrets  their  disappearance.  They 
were  not  old,  but  they  had  a  character  of  their  own, 
and  they  preserved  the  memory  of  ancient  sites.  I 
wish  they  could  have  been  preserved  to  this  day.  A 
statue  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  which  formerly  stood  on 
the  west  front  of  Lud  Gate,  is,  I  believe,  the  only  part 
of  a  City  gate  not  destroyed.  It  is  now  placed  on 
the  south  wall  of  St.  Dunstan's,  Fleet  Street,  where 
thousands  pass  by  every  day,  regardless  of  this  monu- 
ment of  London  before  the  fire ! 

I  have  found,  in  a  pamphlet  written  (1754)  to  advo- 
cate certain  improvements  in  the  City,  glimpses  of 
things  too  petty  for  the  dignity  of  history,  yet  not 
without  interest  to  one  who  wishes  to  reconstruct  the 

23 


434  LONDON 

life  of  the  time.  For  instance,  the  streets  were  not 
cleaned,  except  in  certain  thoroughfares ;  at  the  back 
of  the  Royal  Exchange,  for  instance,  was  a  scandalous 
accumulation  of  filth  suffered  to  remain,  and  the  pos- 
terns of  the  City  gates  were  equally  neglected  and 
abused.  The  rubbish  shot  into  the  streets  was  not 
cleared  away  ;  think  of  the  streets  all  discharging  the 
duty  of  the  dust-bin  !  Cellar  doors  and  windows  were 
left  open  carelessly;  stone  steps  projected  from  the 
houses  far  across  the  foot-path.  Where  pavement  had 
been  laid  down  it  was  suffered  to  become  broken  and 
.ruinous,  and  so  left.  Houses  that  had  fallen  down  or 
.been  burned  down  were  left  unbuilt,  an  ugly  hole  in 
the  line  of  the  street.  Sheds  for  shops  were  placed 
against  the  walls  of  churches,  as  at  St.  Antholin's, 
Budge  Row,  and  at  St.  Ethelburga's,  where  they  still 
remain,  transformed  into  houses.  Sheds  for  shops 
have  been  built  out  in  the  street  before  the  houses  in 
certain  places.  Houses  rebuilt  are  pushed  forward 
into  the  street.  Live  bullocks  driven  through  the 
streets  are  a  constant  danger;  mad  dogs  are  another 
danger — why  is  there  no  tax  on  dogs?  Beggars  and 
vagrants  swarm  in  every  street.  The  common  people 
practise  habitually  a  profaneness  of  speech  which  is 
shocking.  These  are  some  of  the  things  complained 
of  by  my  pamphleteer.  He  next  advocates  certain 
improvements.  He  would  establish  a  public  Mercan- 
tile Library — we  now  have  it  at  the  Guildhall.  He 
complains  that  the  City  gates  have  been  encroached 
upon  and  defaced — six  years  later  they  were  taken 
down.  He  shows  us  that  while  within  the  City  itself 
there  were  oil-lamps  set  up  at  regular  intervals  in  all 
the  streets,  there  were  none  outside  the  Freedom.  At 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND 


435 


that  time  beyond  St.  Martin's  le  Grand,  and  in  the 
district  of  St.  Bartholomew's,  the  streets  were  left  in 
darkness  absolute.  This  was  shortly  afterwards  rem- 
edied. He  wants  stronger  and  stouter  men  for  the 
City  watch,  and  would  have  some  stationed  in  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  City  in 
the  daytime.  That,  too, 
was  done,  after  many 
years.  We  must  consider 
that  the  old  theory  was 
that  the  citizens  should 
in  the  daytime  keep  or- 
der for  themselves.  He 
asks  why  no  wheel  car- 
riages are  permitted  on 
the  north  side  of  St. 
Paul's.  He  might  ask 
*the  same  question  still, 
and  the  answer  would  be 

that  it  is  a  very  great  happiness  to  be  able  to  keep 
one,  if  only  one,  street  in  London  free  from  carts  and 
omnibuses. 

He  then  proceeds  to  propose  the  erection  of  eques- 
trian statues  in  various  parts  of  the  City.  This  has 
now  been  accomplished,  but  yet  we  are  not  wholly 
satisfied.  He  would  put  up  piazzas,  porticos,  and 
triumphal  arches  here  and  there ;  he  would  remove 
the  bars  and  chains  of  Holborn,  Smithfield,  Alders- 
gate,  Bishopsgate,  and  Whitechapel,  and  would  put 
up  stone  piers  with  the  City  arms  upon  them.  We 
have  almost  forgotten  those  bars  and  chains.  He  pro- 
poses a  new  stone  bridge  across  the  river  at  the  mouth 
of  Fleet  Ditch.  Blackfriars  Bridge  has  been  erected 


LUD   GATE 


436  LONDON 

there.     It  is  a  most  instructive  pamphlet,  written,  it  is 
evident,  by  a  man  much  in  advance  of  his  age. 

The  best  description  of  London  aboijt  this  time  is 
certainly  Gay's  "  Trivia."  Witness  the  following  lines 
on  Thames  Street : 

"  O  who  that  rugged  street  would  traverse  o'er, 
That  stretches,  O  Fleet  Ditch,  from  thy  black  shore 
To  the  Tow'r's  moated  walls  ?     Here  steams  ascend 
That,  in  mixed  fumes,  the  wrinkled  nose  offend. 
Where  chandler's  cauldrons  boil ;  where  fishy  prey 
Hide  the  wet  stall,  long  absent  from  the  sea; 
And  where  the  cleaver  chops  the  heifer's  spoil, 
And  where  huge  hogsheads  sweat  with  trainy  oil; 
Thy  breathing  nostril  hold :  but  how  shall  I 
Pass,  where  in  piles  Carnavian  cheeses  lie ; 
Cheese,  that  the  table's  closing  rites  denies, 
And  bids  me  with  th'  unwilling  chaplain,  rise?" 

If  you  were  to  ask  any  person  specially  interested 
in  the  Church  of  England — not  necessarily  a  clergy, 
man  of  that  Church — which  was  the  deadest  and  low- 
est and  feeblest  period  in  the  history  of  the  Anglican 
Church,  he  would,  without  the  least  hesitation,  reply 
that  the  reign  of  George  the  Second  covered  that 
period.  This  is  universally  accepted.  I  think,  how- 
ever, that  one  may  show,  without  much  trouble,  that 
this  belief  is  not  based  upon  inquiry  into  the  facts  of 
the  time.  The  Church  of  George  the  Second  did  not, 
it  is  true,  greatly  resemble  that  of  this  generation :  it 
had  its  own  customs,  and  it  had  its  own  life.  It  is 
certain  that  the  churches  were  what  is  commonly  call- 
ed "  ugly  " — that  is  to  say,  they  were  built  by  Wren, 
or  were  imitations  of  his  style,  and  had  nothing  to  do 
with  Early  English,  or  Decorated,  or  even  Perpendic- 


GEORGE  THE   SECOND  437 

ular.  Also,  it  is  certain  that  the  congregations  sat  in 
pews,  each  family  by  itself ;  that  there  were  some  few 
pews  of  greater  dignity  than  others,  where  sat  my 
Lord  Mayor,  or  the  aldermen,  or  the  sheriffs,  or  the 
masters  of  City  companies.  It  is  also  certain  that  all 
the  churches  had  galleries ;  that  the  services  were  per- 
formed from  a  "  three-decker ;"  that  the  sermon  was 
preached  in  a  black  gown,  and  that  the  clergyman 
called  himself  a  minister,  and  not  a  priest.  All  these 
things  are  abominations  to  some  of  us  in,  the  latter 
half  of  the  nineteenth  century.  There  were  also  plu- 
ralists ;  the  poor  were  left  very  much  to  themselves, 
and  the  parish  was  not  "  worked  "  according  to  mod- 
ern ideas.  There  were  no  mothers'  meetings,  no  day 
in  .the  country,  no  lectures  and  tea  -  meetings ;  no 
activity ;  no  "  working,"  in  fact,  at  all.  But  was  it 
quite  a  dead  time  ?  Let  us  see. 

There  were  at  that  time  a  hundred  and  nine  parish 
churches  in  London  and  Westminster.  At  forty-four 
of  these  there  was  daily  service — surely  this  is  a  rec- 
ognized indication  of  some  religious  activity — at  one 
of  these  there  were  three  daily  services  ;  at  all  of  them 
— the  whole  hundred  and  nine — there  were  services 
every  Wednesday  and  Friday,  and  on  all  holy  days 
and  saints'  days.  There  were  endowments  for  occa- 
sional sermons  in  nearly  every  church.  So  much  of 
the  Puritan  spirit  remained  that  the  sermon  was  still 
considered  the  most  important  part  of  Church  serv- 
ice ;  in  other  words,  sound  doctrine  being  then  held 
to  be  essential  to  salvation,  instruction  in  doctrine  was 
considered  of  far  greater  importance  than  prayer  or 
praise ;  a  fact  which  quite  sufficiently  accounts  for 
the  slovenly  character  of  Church  services  down  to 


438  LONDON 

thirty  or  forty  years  ago.  The  singing,  observe,  might 
be  deplorable,  but  the  sermon  —  the  essential — was 
sound. 

Sound  doctrine.  That  was  the  one  thing  needful. 
It  trampled  on  everything  else.  Of  commercial  mo- 
rality, of  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  masters 
towards  servants,  of  any  rights  possessed  by  the  pro- 
ducers either  in  their  produce  or  in  their  government, 
or  in  their  power  to  better  their  position,  not  one 
word  was  ever  said.  The  same  men  who  would  grave- 
ly and  earnestly  and  with  fervent  prayers  discuss  the 
meaning  of  a  text,  would  take  a  share  in  a  slaver 
bound  for  the  Guinea  Coast  and  Jamaica,  or  go  out  to 
watch  the  flogging  of  a  wretch  at  the  cart-tail,  or  the 
hanging  of  a  poor  woman  for  stealing  a  loaf  of  bread, 
without  a  thought  that  they  were  doing  or  witnessing 
anything  but  what  was  right  and  laudable.  The  same 
men  would  cheerfully  pay  their  servants  wages  just 
enough  to  live  upon  and  make  tenfold,  twentyfold 
profit  to  themselves,  and  think  they  were  doing  God 
service.  So  far  the  religious  life  of  the  century  was 
low  and  feeble.  But  the  science  of  morals  advances ; 
it  has  very  little  indeed  to  do  with  sound  doctrine, 
but  a  great  deal  with  human  brotherhood ;  could  we 
look  into  the  middle  of  the  next  century  we  should 
perhaps  shudder  to  discover  how  we  ourselves  will  be 
regarded  as  inhuman  sweaters  and  oppressors  of  the 
poor.  Let  us,  therefore,  cease  to  speak  of  our  fore- 
fathers with  contempt.  They  had  their  religion  ;  it 
differed  from  ours;  we  have  ours,  and  our  grand- 
children's will  differ  from  that. 

There  were  no  Sunday-schools.  These  came  in  tow- 
ards the  end  of  the  century ;  still  there  were  schools 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND 


439 


in  almost  every  parish  in  the  City.  At  these  schools 
the  children  were  instructed  in  the  rudiments  of  the 
Christian  faith.  Why,  the  free-schools  of  the  City, 
without  counting  the  great  grammar-schools  of  St. 
Paul's,  Merchant  Taylors',  Charter  House,  Christ's 
Hospital,  the  Mercers',  St.  Olave's,  and  St.  Saviour's, 
gave  instruction  to  five  thousand  boys  and  half  that 
number  of  girls.  There  was  not  a  poor  boy  of  re- 
spectable parents  in  the  whole  City,  I  believe,  who 
could  not  receive  a  sound  education — quite  as  good 


DAVENANT  S   SCHOOL 


as  he  would  now  get  at  a  Board  School,  and  on  Sun- 
day he  had  to  go  to  church  and  was  duly  catechised. 

The  theory  of  parish  organization  in  the  last  cen- 
tury was  very  simple,  yet  it  was  effective.  The  par- 
ishes were  small — some  of  them  tiny  in  their  dimen- 


440  LONDON 

sions — so  that,  although  they  were  densely  populated, 
the  rector  or  vicar  knew  every  soul  that  belonged  to 
his  church.  The  affairs  of  the  people  —  the  care  of 
the  poor — were  provided  for  by  the  companies.  The 
children  were  taught  at  the  free-schools  or  the  gram- 
mar-schools. At  fourteen  a  boy  was  made  a  prentice, 
and  entered  some  livery.  Once  in  a  company,  his 
whole  life  was  assured.  He  would  get  regular  work ; 
he  would  have  the  wages  due ;  he  would  marry ;  his 
children  would  be  cared  for  as  he  had  been.  He 
would  be  looked  after  not  by  the  Church — that  was 
not  the  function  of  the  Church — but  by  his  company, 
in  sickness  and  in  age,  as  well  as  in  time  of  strength 
and  work.  Every  Sunday,  Wednesday,  Friday,  and 
holy  day  there  were  services,  with  sermons;  but  we 
need  not  suppose  that  the  working-man  considered  it 
his  duty  to  flock  to  the  week-day  services.  On  Sun- 
day, of  course,  he  went,  because  the  whole  parish  was 
expected  to  be  in  church.  They  did  attend.  Station 
and  order  were  preserved  within  the  church  as  with- 
out. The  rich  merchants  and  the  masters  sat  in  the 
most  beautiful  pews  possible  to  conceive,  richly  carved 
with  blazoned  shields  and  figures  in  white  and  gold, 
with  high  backs,  above  which  the  tops  of  the  wigs 
proudly  nodded.  These  pews  were  gathered  ajpout 
the  pulpit,  which  was  itself  a  miracle  of  carved  work, 
though  perhaps  it  was  only  a  box  stuck  onto  the 
wall.  The  altar,  the  walls,  the  galleries  were  all  adorn- 
ed with  wood-carvings.  Under  the  galleries  and  in 
the  aisles,  on  plain  benches,  sat  the  folk  who  worked 
for  wages,  the  bedesmen  and  bedeswomen,  and  the 
charity  children.  The  retail  people,  who  kept  the 
shops,  had  less  eligible  pews  behind  their  betters. 


GEORGE   THE   SECOND  441 

They  left  the  church  in  order,  the  great  people  first, 
then  the  lesser,  and  then  the  least.  No  order  and 
rank  —  all  to  be  equal  —  in  the  house  of  the  Lord?- 
Nonsense !  How  could  that  -be  allowed  when  He 
has  ordained  that  they  shall  be  unequal  outside  His 
house?  The  notion  of  equality  in  the  Church  is 
quite  a  modern  idea.  It  is  not  yet  accepted,  though 
here  and  there  it  is  tolerated.  It  is,  in  fact,  revolu- 
tionary;  it  is  subversive  of  rank.  Are  we  to  under- 
stand that  it  is  as  easy  for  a  pauper  to  get  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  as  a  prince?  We  may  say  so, 
but,  my  friends,  no  prince  will  ever  be  got  to  be- 
lieve it. 

An  excellent  example  of  a  last-century  church  is  to 
be  seen  in  Thames  Street.  It  is  the  Church  of  All 
Hallows  the  Great.  The  building  is  a  square  room, 
with  no  beauty  except  that  of  proportion ;  it  is  rich 
in  wood  -  carvings ;  the  pulpit,  lavishly  adorned  with 
precious  work,  ought  to  belong  to  some  great  cathe- 
dral ;  it  has  got  a  screen  of  carved  wood  right  across 
the  church  which  is  most  beautiful.  The  old  arrange- 
ment of  the  last  century  is  still  preserved ;  the  pulpit 
is  placed  against  the  middle  of  the  wall ;  the  pews  of 
the  merchants  are  gathered  about,  while  the  pews  of 
the  common  people  are  those  nearest  to  the  com- 
munion table.  Formerly  the  latter  were  appropri- 
ated to  the  watermen's  apprentices.  These  youths, 
once  the  hope  of  the  Thames,  sat  with  their  backs 
to  the  table,  and  have  left  the  record  of  their  presence 
in  their  initials  carved  with  dates  on  the  sloping 
book-stand.  There  they  are,  "J.  F.  1710,"  "  B.  R. 
1734,"  with  a  rude  carving  of  a  ship,  showing  how 
they  beguiled  the  tedium  of  the  sermon.  The  ar- 


442  LONDON 

rangement  of  the  pews  illustrates  the  importance  in 
which  the  sermon  was  held.  The  people,  as  at  Paul's 
Cross,  gathered  about  the  preacher.  The  modern  im- 
patience with  which  the  sermon  is  received  is  mainly 
owing  to  the  fact  that  we  no  longer  feel  so  strongly 
the  importance  of  sound  doctrine ;  we  have  come  to 
think,  more  or  less  clearly,  that  the  future  of  a  man 
cannot  possibly  depend  upon  the  question  whether  he 
has  at  any  time  expressed  assent  or  consent  to  certain 
doctrines  which  he  is  wholly  incapable  of  understand- 
ing. We  see  around  us  so  many  forms  of  creed  that 
we  have  grown  careless,  or  tolerant,  or  contemptuous, 
or  charitable  concerning  doctrine. 

There  were  penalties  for  absence  from  service.  A 
man  who  stayed  away  was  liable  to  the  censure  of  the 
Church,  with  a  fine  of  one  shilling  for  every  offence. 
He  was  called  upon  to  prove  where  he  had  been  to 
church,  because  it  was  not  thought  possible  that  any- 
body should  stay  away  from  service  altogether.  If  a 
person  harbored  in  his  house  one  who  did  not  attend 
the  parish  church,  he  was  liable  to  a  fine  of  £20  a 
month ;  the  third  part  of  the  fine  being  given  to  the 
informer.  I  do  not  suppose  that  these  laws  were  ever 
rigidly  enforced  ;  otherwise  the  Nonconformists  would 
have  cried  out  oftener  and  louder.  But  their  spirit 
remained.  During  the  week,  the  parish,  save  for  the 
services,  was  left  to  take  care  of  itself.  There  were 
no  visits,  no  concerts,  no  magic  lanterns,  no  Bible 
classes,  no  missionary  meeting — nothing — everybody 
attended  to  his  own  business.  The  men  worked  all 
day  long ;  the  women  looked  after  the  house  all  day 
long ;  in  the  evenings  the  taverns  were  crowded  ;  there 
were  clubs  of  all  kinds ;  everybody  took  his  tobacco 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND  443 

and  his  glass  at  a  tavern  or  a  club,  and  no  harm  was 
thought  of  it. 

For  the  old  people  there  were  almshouses,  and  there 
was  the  bounty  of  the  companies.  And  since  there 
must  be  always  poor  people  among  us,  there  were 
doles  in  every  parish.  Special  cases  were  provided 
for  as  they  arose  by  the  merchants  themselves.  Fi- 
nally, if  one  was  sick  or  dying,  the  clergyman  went  to 
read  the  office  appointed  for  the  sick ;  and  when  one 
died,  he  read  the  office  appointed  for  the  dead. 

All  this  is  simple  and  intelligible.  The  Church  pro- 
vided instruction  in  doctrine  for  old  and  young,  forms 
of  prayer,  consolation  in  sickness,  baptism,  communion, 
and  burial  for  all ;  some  churches  had  charitable  en- 
dowments ;  the  rest  was  left  to  the  parishioners  them- 
selves. This  is  not  quite  the  modern  idea  of  the 
parish,  but  it  seems  to  have  worked  as  well  as  our  own 
practice.  Their  clergyman  was  a  divine,  and  nothing 
more  ;  ours  undertakes  the  care  of  the  poor  first  of 
all ;  he  is  the  administrator  of  charity  ;  he  is,  next,  the 
director  of  schools,  the  organizer  of  amusements,  the 
leader  of  athletics,  the  trainer  of  the  choir,  the  presi- 
dent of  musical  societies,  the  founder  of  working-lad's 
institutes ;  he  also  reads  the  service  at  church,  and  he 
preaches  a  short  sermon  every  Sunday ;  but  the  latter 
functions  are  not  much  regarded  by  his  people.  Their 
,  clergyman  was  a  divine ;  he  was  therefore  a  scholar. 
Therein  lies  the  whole  difference.  We  have  no  divines 
now,  and  very  few  scholars  among  the  parish  clergy,  or 
even  among  the  bishops.  Here  and  there  one  or  two 
divines  are  found  upon  the  Episcopal  bench,  and  one  or 
two  at  Oxford  and  Cambridge  ;  in  the  parish  churches, 
none.  We  do  not  ask  for  divines,  or  even  for  preach- 


444 


LONDON 


ers;  we  want  organizers,  administrators,  athletes,  and 
singers.  And  the  only  reason  for  calling  the  time  of 
George  the  Second  a  dead  time  for  the  Church  seems 
to  be  that  its  clergy  were  not  like  our  own. 

Let  us  walk  abroad  and  view  the  streets.     They  are 
changed,  indeed,  since  Stow  led  us  from  St.  Andrew's 
Undershaft  to  St.  Paul's.     The  old  gabled  houses  are 
all  gone,  except  in  the  narrow  limits  of  that  part  spared 
by  the  fire ;  in  their  places  are  tall  houses  with  large 
sash  windows  and  flat  facade.     Within,  they  are  wains- 
coted, the  fashion  of  tapestry  having  completely  gone 
out.     Foot-passengers  are  protected  by  rows  of  posts 
at  intervals  of  four  or  five  feet.     Flat  paving-stones  are 
not  in  general  use,  and  those  that  have  been  laid  down 
are  small  and  insecure.      The   shops   are   small,  and 
there  is  little  pretence  at  displaying  the  goods ;  they 
have,  however,  all  got  windows 
in  front.     A  single  candle,  or 
two  at  the  most,  illuminate  the 
wares   in  the   evening   or  the 
short  afternoons  of  winter.    A 
sign  hangs  out  over  every  door. 
The  drawing  of  St.  Dunstan's 
in  the  West  shows  that  part 
of  Fleet  Street  before  the  pav- 
ing-stones were  laid  down.  The 
only   pavement   both    for    the 
road  and  the  footway  consist- 
ed   of    large,    round    pebbles, 
over  which  the  rolling  of  the 

vehicles  made  the  most  dreadful  noise.  In  the  year 
1762,  however,  an  improvement  was  introduced  in 
Westminster,  followed  by  the  City  of  London  in  1766. 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND 


445 


ST.  DUNSTAN'S  IN  THE*WEST 


The  roads  were  paved  with  squares  of  Scotch  granite 
laid  in  gravel ;  the  posts  were  removed ;  a  curb  was 
laid  down ;  gutters  provided,  and  the  footway  paved 
with  flat  stones.  About  the  same  time  the  corpora- 
tion took  down  the  overhanging  signs,  removed  the 
City  gates,  covered  over  Fleet  Ditch,  and  broadened 
numerous  narrow  passages.  The  drawing  here  repro- 
duced of  the  Monument  and  the  beginning  of  London 
Bridge  dates  between  1757  and  1766;  for  the  houses 
are  already  down  in  the  bridge — this  was  done  in  1757, 
and  the  posts  and  signs  are  not  yet  removed  from  the 
street.  The  view  gives  an  excellent  idea  of  a  London 
street  of  that  time.  The  posts  were  by  no  means  all 


446  LONDON 

removed.  The  drawing  of  Temple  Bar  from  Butcher 
Row,  taken  as  late  as  1796,  in  which  they  are  still 
standing,  shows  this.  It  also  shows  the  kind  of  houses 
in  the  lower  streets.  Butcher  Row,  though  it  stood 
in  the  Strand  at  the  back  of  St.  Clement's  Church,  a 
highly  respectable  quarter,  was  one  of  the  most  dis- 
reputable places  in  the  whole  of  London — given  over 
to  crimps,  flash  lodging-houses,  and  people  of  the 
baser  sort. 

There  are  certain  dangers  and  inconveniences  in 
walking  along  the  streets :  the  finest  dress  may  be 
ruined  by  the  carelessness  of  a  dustman  or  a  chimney- 
sweep ;  the  custom  of  exposing  meat  on  open  bulk- 
heads leads  to  many  an  irreparable  stain  of  grease. 
Bullies  push  the  peaceful  passenger  into  the  gutter — 
it  is  a  great  time  for  street  swagger ;  barbers  blow  the 
flour  into  wigs  at  open  doorways,  causing  violent 
wrath  among  those  outside ;  mad  bulls  career  up  and 
down  the  streets;  men  quarrel,  make  a  ring,  and  fight 
it  out  before  the  traffic  can  go  on ;  pickpockets  are 
both  numerous  and  dexterous;  footpads  abound  in  the 
open  squares  of  Lincoln's  Inn,  Bloomsbury,  and  Port- 
man  ;  highwaymen  swarm  on  all  the  roads ;  men- 
servants  are  insolent  and  rascally  ;  the  noise  in  the 
leading  streets  .is  deafening;  in  a  shower  the  way 
becomes  impassable  from  the  rain-spouts  on  the  roof, 
which  discharge  their  contents  upon  the  streets  below. 

We  who  now  object  to  the  noise  of  a  barrel-organ 
in  the  street,  or  a  cry  of  milk,  or  a  distant  German 
band,  would  be  driven  mad  by  a  single  day  of  George 
the  Second's  London  streets.  Hogarth  has  touched 
the  subject,  but  only  touched  it.  No  one  could  do 
more  in  a  picture  than  indicate  the  mere  fringe  of 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND 


447 


this  vast  subject.  Even  on  the  printed  page  we  can 
do  little  more  than  the  painter.  For  instance,  here 
were  some  of  the  more  common  and  every-day  and 
all -day -long  noises.  Many  of  the  shopkeepers  still 
kept  up  the  custom  of  having  a  prentice  outside 
bawling  an  invitation  to  buy — buy — buy.  To  this 
day,  butchers  at  Clare  Market  cry  out  at  the  stalls, 
all  day  long,  "  Rally  up,  ladies  !  Rally  up  !  Buy  ! 
Buy  !  Buy !"  In  the  streets  of  private  houses  there 
passed  a  never-ending  procession  of  those  who  bawled 
things  for  sale.  Here  were  a  few  of  the  things  they 


APPROACH   TO   LONDON    BRIDGE 


448  LONDON 

bawled  —  I  am  conscious  that  it  is  a  very  imperfect 
list.  There  were  those  who  offered  to  do  things — 
mend  chairs,  grind  knives,  solder  pots  and  pans,  buy 
rags  or  kitchen  stuff,  rabbit  skins,  hair,  or  rusty  swords, 
exchange  old  clothes  or  wigs,  mend  old  china,  cue 
wires  —  this  excruciating,  rasping  operation  was  ap- 
parently done  in  the  open — or  cooper  casks.  There 
were,  next,  the  multitude  of  those  who  carried  wares 
to  sell  —  as  things  to  eat  and  drink — saloop,  barley 
broth,  rice,  milk,  furmity,  Shrewsbury  cakes,  eggs, 
lily-white  vinegar,  hot  peascods,  rabbits,  birds,  pul- 
lets, gingerbread,  oysters,  honey,  cherry  ripe,  Chancy 
oranges,  hot  codlins,  pippins,  fruit  of  all  kinds,  fish 
taffity  tarts,  fresh-water,  tripe,  tansy,  greens,  mustard, 
salt,  gray  pease,  water-cresses,  shrimps,  rosemary,  lav- 
ender, milk,  elder-buds ;  or  things  of  domestic  use — 
lace,  ribbons,  almanacs,  ink,  small  coal,  sealing-wax, 
wood  to  cleave,  earthen-ware,  spigots,  combs,  buckles, 
leghorns,  pewter  pots,  brooms  in  exchange  for  old 
shoes,  things  of  horn,  Holland  socks,  woollen  socks 
and  wrappers,  brimstone  matches,  flint  and  steel,  shoe- 
laces, scissors  and  tools,  straps,  and  the  thousand-and- 
one  things  which  are  now  sold  in  shops.  The  bear- 
ward  came  along  with  his  animal  and  his  dogs  and  his 
drum,  the  sweep  shouted  from  the  house-top,  the  bal- 
lad-singer bawled  in  the  road,  the  tumbler  and  the 
dancing-girl  set  up  their  pitch  with  pipe  and  drum. 
Nobody  minded  how  much  noise  was  made.  In  the 
smaller  streets  the  good -wives  sat  with  open  doors, 
running  in  and  out,  gossiping  over  their  work;  they 
liked  the  noise,  they  liked  this  perambulating  market- 
it  made  the  street  lively,  it  brought  the  neighbors  out 
to  look,  and  it  pleased  the  baby.  Then  the  wagons 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND  449 

went  ponderously  grinding  over  the  round  stones  of 
the  road,  the  carts  rumbled,  the  brewers'  sledges 
growled,  the  chariot  rattled,  the  drivers  quarrelled, 
cursed,  and  fought.  A  great  American,  now,  alas  ! 
gone  from  us,  spoke  of  the  continual  murmur  of  Lon- 
don as  of  Niagara  afar  off.  A  hundred  years  ago  he 
would  have  spoken  of  the  continual  roar. 

At  this  time  the  wealth  and  trade  of  London  had 
reached  a  point  which  surprised  and  even  terrified 
those  who  considered  the  present  compared  with  the 
past  and  looked  forward  to  the  future.  "On  a  gen- 
eral view,"  writes  Northouck  in  1772,  "of  our  national 
circumstances  it  is  but  too  probable  that  the  height 
of  our  prosperity  is  now  producing  our  ruin."  He 
hears  the  cry  of  the  discontented ;  it  means,  he  thinks, 
ruin.  Well,  there  were  to  be  mighty  changes,  and 
still  more  mighty  changes  of  which  he  suspects  noth- 
ing. Yet  not  ruin.  For,  whatever  happens,  the  en- 
ergy and  the  spirit  of  the  people  will  remain.  Be- 
sides, Northouck  and  those  of  his  time  did  not  under- 
stand that  the  world  is  always  growing  wider. 

The  great  merchants  of  the  City  still  lived  within 
the  old  boundaries:  they  had  their  country-houses, 
but  they  spent  most  of  their  time  in  town,  where  their 
houses  were  stately  and  commodious,  but  no  longer 
palaces  like  those  of  their  predecessors.  Two  or  three 
of  them  remain,  but  they  are  rapidly  disappearing. 
One  of  these,  destroyed  about  six  years  ago,  illustrat- 
ed the  house  of  a  merchant  at  a  time  when  his  offices 
and  his  residence  were  one.  The  rooms  for  his  clerks 
were  on  the  ground  floor ;  the  merchant's  private 
room  looked  out  upon  a  garden  at  the  back.  In  the 
basement  was  his  strong-room,  constructed  of  stone, 
29 


450  LONDON 

in  a  deep  recess.  On  the  first  floor  were  the  living- 
rooms.  The  garden  was  not  large,  but  it  contained  a 
stone  terrace  fine  enough  for  a  garden  of  much  larger 
dimensions,  a  mulberry-tree,  and  a  vine. 

There  were  no  palaces  left  in  the  City ;  no  noble- 
men lived  there  any  longer.  The  Lord  Mayor's  Man- 
sion, built  in  1750,  was  the  only  palace  unless  we 
count  Guildhall,  the  Royal  Exchange,  Gresham  Col- 
lege, and  the  Halls  of  the  Companies.  But  in  every 
street  except  those  given  up  entirely  to  trade,  such  as 
Cheapside,  stood  the  substantial  house  of  the  City 
Fathers. 

•Never  before  had  the  City  been  so  wealthy.  De- 
spite the  continual  wars  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
nothing  could  check  the  prosperity  of  the  country. 
French  privateers  scoured  the  ocean  in  chase  of  our 
merchantmen ;  every  East  Indiaman  had  to  run  the 
gantlet  all  the  way  from  Madeira  to  Plymouth ;  the 
supremacy  of  the  sea  was  obstinately  disputed  by 
France;  yet  more  ships  escaped  than  were  taken. 
Our  Indiamen  foi%ht  the  privateer  and  sank  him ; 
our  fleets  retaliated ;  our  frigates  protected  the  mer- 
chantmen, and  when,  as  happened  sometimes,  we  had 
the  pleasure  of  fighting  Spain  as  well  as  France,  the 
balance  of  captures  was  greatly  in  our  favor.  "  Sir," 
said  Lord  Nelson  to  the  King,  when  Spain  declared 
war  against  us,  "this  makes  all  the  difference.  It 
promised  to  be  a  poor  war ;  it  will  now  be  a  rich 
war." 

"  But,  noble  Thames,  whilst  I  can  hold  a  pen, 
I  will  divulge  thy  glory  unto  men. 
Then  in  the  morning,  when  my  corn  is  scant, 
Before  the  evening  doth  supply  my  want." 


GEORGE  THE   SECOND  451 

This  was  written  by  the  Water  Poet,  John  Taylor,  a 
little  later.  The  river  was  the  most  convenient  and 
the  most  rapid  road  from  one  end  of  London  to  the 
other,  at  a  time  when  the  roads  were  miry  and  full  of 
holes,  and  when  there  were  no  coaches.  And  long 
after  coaches  became  numerous,  the  watermen  con- 
tinued to  flourish.  There  were  only  two  bridges  over 
the  river ;  many  places  of  amusement — the  Paris  Gar- 
dens, Cupid  Gardens,  St.  George's  Fields,  and  Vaux- 
hall — lay  on  the  south  side :  it  was  pleasant  and  quiet 
on  the  water,  save  for  the  quarrels  and  the  cursing  of 
the  watermen.  The  air  was  fresh:  the  view  of  the 
City  was  noble  :  the  river  was  covered  with  barges  and 
pleasure-boats  furnished  with  banners  and  streamers 
of  silk ;  flocks  of  swans  swimming  about — little  won- 
der if  the  citizens  continued  to  prefer  the  river  to 
their  muddy  lanes  and  noisy  streets.  Even  in  the 
last  century,  too,  the  watermen  had  not  ceased  to 
sing  as  they  rowed.  They  still  sang — with  a  "  Heave 
and  hoe,  rumbelow  " — their  old  ballad  of  "  Row  the 
boat,  Norman,  to  thy  leman,"  made,  it  was  said,  on 
John  Norman,  first  of  the  mayors  who  was  rowed  to 
Westminster  by  water  instead  of  riding,  as  had  been 
the  previous  custom. 

Those  who  have  read  Professor  Seeley's  book  on  the 
Extension  of  Britain  know  how  our  conquests,  our 
power,  and  our  trade  increased  during  that  long  strug- 
gle with  France.  We  had  losses ;  we  made  an  enemy 
beyond  the  Atlantic  who  should  have  been  our  firm- 
est friend  and  ally ;  we  were  hampered  with  conti- 
nental possessions  ;  we  were  continually  suffering  enor- 
mous drains  of  money  and  of  men ;  we  were  throwing 
away  our  lusty  youth  by  hundreds  of  thousands ;  yet 


452 


LONDON 


ABOVE    BRIDGE 


we  continued  to  grow  stronger  and  richer  every  year. 
The  wars  advanced  trade ;  the  wars  pushed  forward 
our  territories;  our  increased  trade  paid  for  the  wars; 
the  wars  provided  occupation  for  younger  sons. 

By  this  time,  too,  the  companies  were  at  their  rich- 
est ;  their  charities  were  at  their  fullest ;  their  ban- 
quets and  functions  were  most  lavish  and  splendid. 

Take  the  rich  Company  of  Haberdashers  alone  for 
its  benefactions.  This  company  maintained  two  free- 
schools  in  London  and  three  in  the  country ;  two 
almshouses  in  London  and  two  in  the  country ;  it 
presented  to  six  benefices  in  the  country;  it  provided 


GEORGE  THE   SECOND  453 

X 

three  lectureships  in  city  churches  and  one  in  the  Uni- 
versity of  Cambridge  ;  it  gave  five  exhibitions  to  Cam- 
bridge, and  it  provided  pensions  for  forty-eight  poor 
men  and  women.  In  these  charities  the  company 
disbursed  about  £3400  a  year.  At  the  present  day  it 
gives  away  a  great  deal  more  owing  to  the  increased 
value  of  its  property,  but  as  London  is  so  much 
larger  the  effect  is  not  so  great  in  proportion.  This 
list  of  charities,  again,  does  not  include  the  execution 
of  certain  testamentary  and  private  charities,  as  broad- 
cloth to  poor  widows,  gifts  to  prisoners  for  debt,  pay- 
ments for  ringing  the  church -bell,  weekly  doles  of 
bread,  and  so  forth.  The  Haberdashers'  Company 
was  one  of  the  twelve  great  companies,  all  wealthy. 
If  each  of  these  gave  away  yearly  the  sum  of  £2000 
only,  we  have  ,£24,000  a  year.  There  were,  besides, 
all  the  smaller  companies,  and  not  one  without  some 
funds  for  charity,  education,  or  pensions.  A  boy  born 
in  the  City  might  be  educated  by  his  father's  com- 
pany, apprenticed  to  the  company,  taught  his  trade 
by  the  company,  found  in  work  by  the  company, 
feasted  once  a  year  by  the  company,  pensioned  by 
the  company,  buried  by  the  company,  and  his  chil- 
dren looked  after  by  the  company.  If  he  fell  into 
debt,  and  so  arrived  at  Ludgate  Hill  Prison,  the  boun- 
ty of  the  company  followed  him  there.  And  even  if 
he  disgraced  himself  and  was  lodged  in  Newgate,  the 
company  augmented  the  daily  ration  of  bread  with 
something  more  substantial.  In  all,  there  were  (and 
are)  eighty -four  City  companies,  representing  every 
trade  except  those  which  are  of  modern  origin.  Among 
these  are  not  counted  such  companies  as  the  Whit- 
awers,  the  Fustarers,  and  the  Megusers,  long  since  dis- 


454  LONDON 

solved.  But  the  Pewterers,  the  Bowyers,  the  Fletch- 
ers, the  Long  Bowstring  Makers,  the  Patten  Makers, 
and  the  Loriners  have  survived  the  trades  which  they 
were  founded  to  maintain.  Some  of  them  have  no 
hall  and  very  small  endowments.  One,  the  Card 
Makers,  presents  each  member  of  the  company  with 
a  pack  of  playing-cards  every  year,  and  with  this  sin- 
gle act  expends,  I  believe,  all  the  endowment  which 
it  possesses. 

By  poetic  license,  quite  pardonable  when  assumed 
by  Austin  Dobson  or  by  Praed,  we  speak  of  the  leisure 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  Where  is  it — this  leisure? 
I  can  find  it  nowhere.  In  London  City  the  sober  mer- 
chant who  walks  so  gravely  on  'Change  is  an  eager, 
venturesome  trader,  pushing  out  his  cargoes  into  every 
quarter  of  the  globe,  as  full  of  enterprise  as  an  Eliza- 
bethan, following  the  flag  wherever  that  leads,  and 
driving  the  flag  before  him.  He  belongs  to  a  battling, 
turbulent  time.  His  blood  is  full  of  fight.  He  makes 
enormous  profits ;  sometimes  he  makes  enormous 
losses ;  then  he  breaks ;  he  goes  under ;  he  never  lifts 
up  his  head  again ;  he  is  submerged — he  and  his,  for 
the  City  has  plenty  of  benevolence,  but  little  pity. 
We  are  all  pushing,  struggling,  fighting  to  get  ahead. 
We  cannot  stop  to  lift  up  one  that  has  fallen  and  is 
trampled  under  foot.  In  the  City  there  stands  behind 
us  a  Fury  armed  with  a  knotted  scourge.  Let  us 
work,  my  brothers,  let  us  never  cease  to  work,  for  this 
is  the  terrible  pitiless  demon  called  Bankruptcy.  If 
there  is  no  leisure  or  quiet  among  the  sober  citizens, 
where  shall  we  look  for  it?  In  the  country?  We  are 
not  here  concerned  with  the  country,  but  I  have  looked 
for  it  there  and  I  cannot  find  it. 


GEORGE  THE    SECOND  455 

It  was  the  dream  of  every  tradesman  not  only  to 
escape  this  fiend,  but  in  fulness  of  time  to  retire  from 
his  shop  and  to  have  his  own  country-house;  or,  if 
that  could  not  be  compassed,  to  have  a  box  three  or 
four  miles  from  town — at  Stockwell,  Clapham,  Hox- 
ton,  or  Bow,  or  Islington — whither  he  might  drive  on 
Saturday  or  other  days,  in  a  four-wheeled  chaise.  He 
loved  to  add  a  bow-window  to  the  front,  at  which  he 
would  sit  and  watch  the  people  pass,  his  wine  before 
him,  for  the  admiration  and  envy  of  all  who  beheld. 
The  garden  at  the  back,  thirty  feet  long  by  twenty 
broad,  he  laid  out  with  great  elegance.  There  was  a 
gravel -walk  at  each  end,  a  pasteboard  grenadier  set 
up  in  one  walk,  and  a  sundial  in  the  other.  In  the 
middle  there  was  a  basin  with  two  artificial  swans, 
over  which  he  moralized :  "  Sir.  I  bought  those  fowls 
seven  years  ago.  They  were  then  as  white  as  could 
be  made.  Now  they  are  black.  Let  us  learn  that  the 
strongest  things  decay,  and  consider  the  flight  of  time." 
He  put  weathercocks  on  his  house-top,  and  when  they 
pointed  different  ways  he  reflected  that  there  is  no 
station  so  exalted  as  to  be  free  from  the  inconsisten- 
cies and  wants  of  life. 

His  wife,  of  course,  was  a  notable  house-keeper.  It 
is  recorded  of  her  that  she  would  never  employ  a  man 
unless  he  could  whistle.  So  that  when  he  was  sent  to 
draw  beer,  or  to  bottle  wine,  or  to  pick  cherries,  or  to 
gather  strawberries,  by  whistling  all  the  time  he  proved 
that  his  mouth  was  empty,  because  you  cannot  whistle 
with  anything  in  your  mouth.  She  made  her  husband 
take  off  his  shoes  before  going  up-stairs ;  she  lamented 
the  gigantic  appetites  of  the  journeymen  whom  they 
had  to  keep  "  peck  and  perch  "  all  the  year  round ; 


456 


LONDON 


she  loved  a  pink  sash  and  a  pink  ribbon,  and  when 
she  went  abroad  she  was  genteelly  "  fetched  "  by  an 
apprentice  or  one  of  the  journeymen  with  candle  and 
lantern. 

The  amusements  and  sights  of  London  were  the 
Tower,  the  Monument,  St.  Paul's  and  Westminster 
Abbey,  the  British  Museum  (after  the  year  1754,  when 
it  was  first  opened),  the  Royal  Exchange,  the  Bank  of 
England,  Guildhall,  the  East  India  House,  the  Custom- 
house, the  Excise  Office,  the  Navy  Office,  the  bridges, 
the  Horse  Guards,  the  squares,  the  Inns  of  Court,  St. 
James's  Palace,  the  two  theatres  of  Drury  Lane  and 
Covent  Garden,  the  Opera-house,  Ranelagh,  Sadler's 


ST.  JAMES'S  PALACE— MARCH  OF  THE  GUARDS 


GEORGE  THE    SECOND  457 

Wells,  Vauxhall,  Astley's,  the  Park,  the  tea-gardens, 
Don  Saltero's,  Chelsea,  the  trials  at  the  Old  Bailey,  the 
hangings  at  Newgate,  the  Temple  Gardens,  the  parade 
of  the  Judges  to  Westminster  Hall,  the  charity  chil- 
dren at  St.  Paul's,  Greenwich  Fair,  the  reviews  of  the 
troops,  the  House  of  Lords  when  the  King  is  present 
and  the  peers  are  robed,  Smithfield,  Billingsgate,  Wool- 
wich, Chelsea  Hospital,  Greenwich  Hospital,  and  the 
suburbs.  With  these  attractions  a  stranger  could  get 
along  for  a  few  days  without  much  fear  of  ennui. 

The  London  fairs — Bartholomew,  Greenwich,  South- 
wark,  May  Fair — no  longer,  of  course,  pretended  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  trade.  TJiey  were  simply  occa- 
sions for  holiday-making  and  indulgence  in  undisguised 
license  and  profligacy.  They  had  bull  and  bear  bait- 
ing, cock-fighting,  prize-fighting,  cudgel-playing — these 
of  course.  They  also  had  their  theatres  and  their 
shows  and  their  jugglers.  They  had  races  of  women, 
fights  of  women,  and  dancing  of  girls  for  a  prize.  They 
continued  the  old  morris -dance  of  five  men,  Maid 
Marian  and  Tom  Fool,  the  last  with  a  fox-brush  in  his 
hat,  and  bells  on  his  legs  and  on  his  coat-tails.  They 
were  fond  of  rope-dancing — in  a  word,  the  fairs  drew 
together  all  the  rascality  of  the  town  and  the  country 
around.  May  Fair  was  stopped  in  the  year  1708,  but 
was  revived  some  years  afterwards.  Southwark  Fair, 
which  was  opened  by  the  Lord  Mayor  and  sheriffs 
riding  over  the  bridge  through  the  borough,  was  not 
suppressed  till  1763.  The  only  good  thing  it  did  was 
to  collect  money  for  the  poor  prisoners  of  Marshalsea 
Prison.  Bartholomew  and  Greenwich  Fair  continued 
till  thirty  or  forty  years  ago. 

The  picturesqueness  of  the  time  is  greatly  due  to 


458  LONDON 

the  dress.  We  all  know  how  effective  on  the  stage  or 
at  a  fancy  ball  is  the  dress  of  the  year  1750.  Never 
had  gallant  youth  a  better  chance  of  displaying  his 
manly  charms.  The  flowered  waistcoat  tight  to  the 
figure,  the  white  satin  coat,  the  gold -laced  hat,  the 
ruffles  and  dainty  necktie,  the  sword  and  the  sword- 
sash,  the  powdered  wig,  the  shaven  face,  the  silk  stock- 
ings and  gold-buckled  shoes — with  what  an  air  the 
young  coxcomb  advances,  and  with  what  a  grace  he 
handles  his  clouded  cane  and  proffers  his  snuffbox! 
Nothing  like  it  remains  in  this  century  of  ours.  And 
the  ladies  matched  the  men  in  splendor  of  dress,  until 
the  "  swing  swang  "  of  the  extravagant  hoop  spoiled 
all.  Here  comes  one,  on  her  way  to  church,  where 
she  will  distract  the  men  from  their  prayers  with  her 
beauty,  and  the  women  with  her  dress.  She  has  a 
flowered  silk  body  and  cream-colored  skirts  trimmed 
with  lace  ;  she  has  light  blue  shoulder-knots  ;  she  wears 
an  amber  necklace,  brown  Swedish  gloves,  and  a  silver 
bracelet ;  she  has  a  flowered  silk  belt  of  green  and 
gray  and  yellow,  with  a  bow  at  the  side,  and  a  brown 
straw-hat  with  flowers  of  green  and  yellow.  "  Sir," 
says  one  who  watches  her  with  admiration,  "  she  is  all 
apple  blossom." 

The  white  satin  coat  is  not  often  seen  east  of  Tem- 
ple Bar.  See  the  sober  citizen  approaching :  he  is 
dressed  in  brown  stockings ;  he  has  laced  rufHes  and 
a  skirt  of  snowy  whiteness  ;  his  shoes  have  silver 
buckles  ;  his  wig  is  dark  grizzle,  full-bottomed  ;  he  car- 
ries his  hat  under  his  left  arm,  and  a  gold-headed  stick 
in  his  right  hand.  He  is  accosted  by  a  wreck — there 
are  always  some  of  these  about  London  streets — who 
has  struck  upon  the  rock  of  bankruptcy  and  gone 


GEORGE   THE   SECOND 


459 


down.  He,  too,  is  dressed  in  brown;  but  where  are  the 
ruffles  ?  Where  is  the  shirt  ?  The  waistcoat,  buttoned 
high,  shows  no  shirt;  his  stockings  are  of  black  worsted, 
darned  and  in  holes ;  his  shoes  are  slipshod,  without 


buckles.  Alas  !  poor  gentleman !  And  his  wig  is  an 
old  grizzle,  uncombed,  undressed,  dirty,  which  has  been 
used  for  rubbing  shoes  by  a  shoeblack.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  street  walks  one,  followed  by  a  prentice 
carrying  a  bundle.  It  is  a  mercer  of  Cheapside,  taking 
some  stuff  to  a  lady.  He  wears  black  cloth,  not  brown ; 
he  has  a  white  tye-wig,  white  silk  stockings,  muslin 
ruffles,  and  japanned  pumps.  Here  comes  a  mechanic : 


460  LONDON 

he  wears  a  warm  waistcoat  with  long  sleeves,  gray 
worsted  stockings,  stout  shoes,  a  three-cornered  hat, 
and  an  apron.  All  working-men  wear  an  apron  ;  it  is 
a  mark  of  their  condition.  They  are  no  more  ashamed 
of  their  apron  than  your  scarlet  -  coated  captain  is 
ashamed  of  his  uniform. 

Let  us  note  the  whiteness  of  the  shirts  and  ruffles : 
a  merchant  will  change  his  shirt  three  times  a  day ;  it 
is  a  custom  of  the  City  thus  to  present  snow-white 
linen.  The  clerks,  we  see,  wear  wigs  like  their  masters, 
but  they  are  smaller.  The  varieties  of  wigs  are  end- 
less. Those  that  decorate  the  heads  of  the  clerks  are 
not  the  full-bottomed  wig,  to  assume  which  would  be 
presumptuous  in  one  in  service.  Most  of  the  mechan- 
ics wear  their  hair  tied  behind ;  the  rustics,  sailors, 
stevedores,  watermen,  and  river-side  men  generally  wear 
it  long,  loose,  and  unkempt.  There  is  a  great  trade  in 
second-hand  wigs.  In  Rosemary  Lane  there  is  a  wig 
lottery.  You  pay  sixpence,  and  you  dip  in  a  cask  for 
an  old  wig.  It  may  turn  out  quite  a  presentable  thing, 
and  it  may  be  worthless.  Here  is  a  company  of  sail- 
ors rolling  along  armed  with  clubs.  They  are  bound 
to  Ratcliffe,  where,  this  evening,  when  the  men  are  all 
drinking  in  the  taverns,  there  will  be  a  press.  Their 
hats  are  three-cornered,  they  wear  blue  jackets,  blue 
shirts,  and  blue  petticoats.  Their  hair  hangs  about 
their  ears.  Beside  them  marches  the  lieutenant  in  the 
new' uniform  of  blue,  faced  with  white. 

Let  us  consider  the  private  life  of  the  people  day 
by  day.  For  this  purpose  we  must  not  go  to  the  es- 
sayists or  the  dramas.  The  novels  of  the  time  afford 
some  help ;  books  corresponding  to  our  directories, 
almanacs,  old  account-books,  are  the  real  guides  to  a 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND 


461 


NORTH   VIEW   OF   THE    MAR- 
SHELSEA,  SOUTHWARK 


reconstruction  of  life  as  it  was  about  the  year  1750. 
From  such  books  as  these  the  following  notes  are 
derived. 

The  most  expensive  parts  of  the  town  were  the 
streets  round  St.  Paul's  Church-yard,  Cheapside,  and 
the  Royal  Exchange.  Charing  Cross,  Covent  Gar- 
den, and  St.  James's  lie  outside  our  limits.  Here  the 
rent  of  a  moderate  house  was  from  a  hundred  to  a 
hundred  and  fifty  guineas  a  year.  In  less  central 
places  the  rents  were  not  more  than  half  as  much. 
There  were  six  or  seven  fire  insurance  offices.  The 
premium  for  insurance  on  houses  and  goods  not 


462  LONDON 

called  hazardous  was  generally  two  shillings  per  cent, 
on  any  sum  under  ,£1000,  half  a  crown  on  all  sums 
between  £1000  and  .£2000,  and  three  and  sixpence 
on  all  sums  over  .£3000,  so  that  a  man  insuring  his 
house  and  furniture  for  .£2500  would  pay  an  annual 
premium  of  £4  Js.  6d. 

The  taxes  of  a  house  amounted  to  about  half  the 
rent.  There  was  the  land-tax  of  four  shillings  in  the 
pound ;  the  house-tax  of  sixpence  to  a  shilling  in  the 
pound  ;  the  poor-rate,  varying  from  one  shilling  to  six 
shillings  in  the  pound ;  the  window-tax,  which  made 
you  pay  first  three  shillings  for  your  house,  and  then, 
with  certain  exceptions,  twopence  extra  for  every  win- 
dow, so  that  a  house  of  fourteen  windows  paid  four 
and  sixpence.  In  the  year  1784  this  tax  was  in- 
creased in  order  to  take  the  duty  off  tea.  The 
church. wardens'  rate  for  repairing  the  church;  the 
paving -rate,  of  one  and  sixpence  in  the  pound;  the 
watch ;  the  Easter  offerings,  which  had  become  op- 
tional ;  the  water-rate,  varying  from  twenty-four  shil- 
lings to  thirty  shillings  a  year. 

The  common  practice  of  bakers  and  milkmen  was 
to  keep  a  tally  on  the  door-post  with  chalk.  One  ad- 
vantage of  this  method  was  that  a  mark  might  be 
added  when  the  maid  was  not  looking.  The  price  of 
meat  was  about  a  third  of  the  present  prices ;  beef  be- 
ing fourpence  a  pound,  mutton  fourpence  halfpenny, 
and 'veal  sixpence.  Chicken  were  commonly  sold  at 
two  and  sixpence  the  pair ;  eggs  were  sometimes 
three  and  sometimes  eight  for  fourpence,  according  to 
the  time  of  year.  Coals  seem  to  have  cost  about 
forty  shillings  a  ton;  but  this  is  uncertain.  Candles 
were  eight  and  fourpence  a  dozen  for  "  dips,"  and  nine 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND 


463 


and  fourpence  a  dozen  for  "moulds;"  wax -candles 
were  two  and  tenpence  a  pound.  For  out-door  lamps 
train-oil  was  used,  and  for  in-doors  spermaceti-oil. 
For  the  daily  dressing  of  the  hair,  hair-dressers  were 
engaged  at  seven  shillings  to  a  guinea  a  month.  Serv- 
ants were  hired  at  register  offices,  but  they  were  often 
of  very  bad  character,  with  forged  papers.  The  wages 
given  were:  to  women  as  cooks,  £12  a  year;  lady's- 
maids,  £12  to  £20}  house-maids  from  £7  to  .£9;  foot- 
men, £14  and  a  livery.  Servants  found  their  own  tea 


CHARING   CROSS 


464  LONDON 

and  sugar,  if  they  wanted  any.  Board  wages  were 
ten  and  sixpence  a  week  to  an  upper  servant ;  seven 
shillings  to  an  under  servant.  Every  householder  was 
liable  to  serve  as  church-warden,  overseer  for  the  poor, 
constable — but  he  could  serve  by  deputy — and  jury- 
man. Peers,  clergymen,  lawyers,  members  of  Parlia- 
ment, physicians,  and  surgeons  were  exempted. 

The  principle  of  life  assurance  was  already  well  es- 
tablished, but  not  yet  in  general  use.  There  seem  to 
have  been  no  more  than  four  companies  for  life  as- 
surance. The  Post-office  rates  varied  with  the  dis- 
tance. A  letter  from  London  to  any  place  not  ex- 
ceeding one  stage  cost  twopence  ;  under  two  stages, 
threepence;  under  eight  miles,  fourpence ;  under  150 
miles,  fivepence  ;  above  150  miles,  to  any  place  in 
England,  sixpence ;  to  Scotland,  sevenpence ;  to  Ire- 
land, sixpence;  to  America  and  the  West  Indies,  a 
shilling  ;  to  any  part  of  Europe,  a  shilling  to  eighteen- 
pence.  There  was  also  a  penny  post,  first  set  up  in 
London  by  a  private  person.  This  had  five  principal 
offices.  Letters  or  packets  not  exceeding  four  ounces 
in  weight  were  carried  about  the  City  for  one  penny, 
and  delivered  in  the  suburbs  for  a  penny  more.  There 
were  no  bank-notes  of  less  than  £20  before  the  year 
1759;  but  when  the  smaller  notes  were  issued,  and 
came  into  general  use,  people  very  soon  found  out  the 
plan  of  cutting  them  in  two  for  safety  in  transmission 
by*j5ost. 

Mail-coaches  started  every  night  at  eight  o'clock 
with  a  guard.  They  were  timed  for  seven  miles  an 
hour,  and  the  fare  for  passengers  was  fourpence  a  mile. 
A  passenger  to  Bristol,  for  example,  who  now  pays 
twenty  shillings  first-class  fare  and  does  the  journey 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND  465 

in  two  hours  and  a  half,  then  paid  thirty -three  and 
fourpence,  and  took  fourteen  hours  and  a  quarter.  A 
great  many  of  the  mails  started  from  the  Swan  with 
Two  Necks,  a  great  hostlery  and  receiving -place  in 
Lad  Lane.  The  place  is  now  swept  away  with  Lad 
Lane  itself.  It  stood  in  the  part  of  Gresham  Street 
which  runs  between  Wood  Street  and  Milk  Street. 

The  stage-coaches  from  different  parts  of  London 
were  innumerable,  as  were  also  the  stage-wagons  and 
the  hoys.  The  coaches  charged  the  passengers  three- 
pence a  mile.  Hackney-coaches  ran  for  shilling  and 
eighteenpenny  fares.  There  were  hackney-chairs.  In 
the  City  there  were  regular  porters  for  carrying  parcels 
and  letters. 

There  were  nine  morning  papers,  of  which  the 
Morning  Post  still  survives.  They  were  all  published 
at  threepence.  There  were  eight  evening  papers, 
which  came  out  three  times  a  week.  And  there  were 
three  or  four  weekly  papers,  intended  chiefly  for  the 
country. 

The  stamps  which  had  to  be  bought  with  anything 
were  a  grievous  burden.  A  pair  of  gloves  worth  ten- 
pence — stamp  of  one  penny;  worth  one  and  four- 
pence — stamp  of  twopence ;  above  one  and  fourpence 
— stamp  of  fourpence.  Penalty  for  selling  without  a 
stamp,  £5.  Hats  were  taxed  in  like  manner.  Inven- 
tories and  catalogues  were  stamped ;  an  apprentice's 
indentures  were  stamped  ;  every  newspaper  paid  a 
stamp  of  three  halfpence.  In  the  year  1753  there 
were  seven  millions  and  a  half  of  stamps  issued  to  the 
journals. 

We  have  seen  what  it  cost  a  respectable  household- 
er to  pay  his  way  in  the  time  of  Charles  the  Second. 
30 


466  LONDON 

The  following  shows  the  cost  of  living  a  hundred 
years  later.  The  house  is  supposed  to  consist  of 
husband  and  wife,  four  children,  and  two  maids : 

Food,  coals,  candles,  small  beer  (of  which  12  gallons 
are  allowed — that  is,  48  quarts,  or  an  average  of  one 
quart  a  day  per  head),  soap,  starch,  and  all  kinds  of 
odds  and  ends  are  reckoned  at  £3  12s.  %d.  a  week,  or 
£189  185.  8*/.  a  year;  clothes,  including  hair-dressing, 
£64;  pocket  expenses,  £15  12s. ;  occasional  illness, 
;£ii  ;  schooling,  £8  ;  wages,  ,£14  ios.;  rent  and  taxes, 
.£66;  entertainments,  wine,  etc.,  ,£30  19^.;  making  a 
total  of  .£400  a  year. 

If  we  take  the  same  family  with  the  same  scale  of 
living  at  the  present  day,  we  shall  arrive  at  the  differ- 
ence in  the  cost  of  things : 

1890      1760 
£          £ 

Food,  coals,  ale,  etc 420      190 

Clothes 120        64 

Pocket  expenses 45         15 

School 143          8 

Illness  • 42        ii 

Wages  of  two  maids 42         14 

Rent  and  taxes  (not  counting  income-tax)     150        66 

Travelling   . 150      nil 

Books,  Magazines,  and  Journals  (say)    .     .      40      nil 

Wine 70        31 

On  furniture  and  the  house 100       nil 

'A  comparison  of  the  figures  shows  a  very  consider- 
able raising  of  the  standard  as  regards  comfort  and 
even  necessaries.  It  is  true  that  the  modern  figures 
have  been  taken  from  the  accounts  of  a  family  which 
spends  every  year  from  ;£i2OO  to  .£1400. 

It  may  be  remarked  in  these  figures  that  schooling 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND  467 

is  extremely  cheap,  viz.,  £&  per  four  children,  or  ten 
shillings  a  quarter  for  each  child.  Therefore  for  a 
school -master  to  get  an  income  of  £250  a  year,  out 
of  which  he  would  have  to  maintain  assistants,  he 
must  have  125  scholars.  The  "pocket  expenses"  in- 
clude letters,  and  all  for  six  shillings  a  week,  which  is 
indeed  moderate.  Entertainments,  wine,  etc.,  are  all 
lumped  together,  showing  that  wine  must  be  consid- 
ered a  very  rare  indulgence,  and  that  small  beer  is  the 
daily  beverage.  Tea  is  set  down  at  two  shillings  a 
week.  In  the  year  1728  tea  was  thirteen  shillings  a 
pound,  but  by  1760  it  had  gone  down  to  about  six 
shillings  a  pound,  so  that  a  third  of  a  pound  was  al- 
lowed every  week.  This  shows  a  careful  measure- 
ment of  the  spoonful.  Of  course  there  was  not  as 
yet  any  tea  allowed  to  the  servants.  Coals  are  esti- 
mated at  £14  a  year — two  fires  in  winter,  one  in  sum- 
mer. Repairs  to  furniture,  table-linen,  sheets,  etc.,  are 
set  down  at  two  shillings  a  week,  or  five  guineas  a 
year.  Happy  the  household  which  can  now  manage 
this  item  at  six  times  that  amount. 

It  might  be  thought  that  by  the  middle  of  the  last 
century  the  beverage  of  tea  was  universally  taken  in 
this  country.  This  was  by  no  means  the  case.  The 
quantity  of  tea  imported  about  this  time  amounted  to 
no  more  than  three-quarters  of  a  pound  per  annum 
for  every  person  in  the  three  kingdoms,  whereas  it  is 
now  no  less  than  thirty -five  pounds  for  every  head. 
It  was,  and  had  been  for  fifty  years,  a  fashionable 
drink,  and  it  had  now  become  greatly  in  use — or,  at 
all  events,  greatly  desired — by  women  of  all  kinds. 
The  men  drank  little  of  it ;  men  in  the  country  and 
working-men  not  at  all.  Its  use  was  not  so  far  gen- 


468  LONDON 

eral  as  to  stop  the  discussion  which  still  continued  as 
to  its  virtues.  In  the  year  1749  it  was  ten  shillings  a 
pound.  In  1758  a  pamphlet  was  written  by  an  anony- 
mous writer  on  the  good  and  bad  effects  of  drinking 
tea.  We  learn  from  this  that  the  author  is  alarmed 
at  the  spreading  of  the  custom  of  tea-drinking,  espe- 
cially by  "  Persons  of  an  inferior  rank  and  mean  Abil- 
ities." "  It  may  not,"  he  says,  "  be  altogether  above 
the  reach  of  the  better  Sort  of  Tradesmen's  Wives 
and  Country  Dames.  But  nowadays  Persons  of  the 
Lowest  Class  vainly  imitate  their  Betters  by  striving 
to  be  in  the  fashion,  and  prevalent  Custom  hath  intro- 
duced it  into  every  Cottage,  and  every  Gammer  must 
have  her  tea  twice  a  day."  The  latter  statement  is 
rank  exaggeration,  as  the  imports  show. 

Especially  the  author  finds  fault  with  afternoon  tea. 
"  It  is  very  hurtful,"  he  says,  "  to  those  who  work  hard 
and  live  low ;  when  taken  in  company  with  gossips  a 
dram  too  often  follows  ;  then  comes  scandal,  with  false- 
hoods, perversions,  and  backbitings :  it  is  an  expense 
which  very  few  can  afford  ;  it  is  a  waste  of  time  which 
ought  to  be  spent  in  spinning,  knitting,  making  clothes 
for  the  children.  Oh,  I  here  with  confusion  stop,  and 
know  not  how  sufficiently  to  bewail  my  grief  to  you, 
delightful  fair!  who,  by  prevalent  custom,  are  led  into 
one  of  the  worst  of  habits,  rendering  you  lost  to  your- 
selves, and  unfit  for  the  comforts  you  were  first  de- 
signed. Be  careful  ;  be  wise  ;  refuse  the  bait ;  fly  from 
a  temptation  productive  of  so  many  ills.  You  charm- 
ing guiltless  young  ones,  who  innocently  at  home  par- 
take of  this  genteel  regale,  avoid  the  public  meetings  of 
low  crafty  gossips,  who  will  use  persuasions  for  you  to 
drinktea  with  them  and  some  others  of  their  own  stamp." 


GEORGE  THE   SECOND 


469 


A    DISH   OF   TEA 


Another  bad  consequence  of  afternoon  tea  is  that  it 
induces  the  little  tradesmen's  wives,  after  selling  some- 
thing, to  offer  their  customer  tea,  and  after  that  a  dram, 
and  so  vanish  all  the  profits. 

But  the  writer  objects  altogether  to  tea.  He  can- 
not find  that  it  possesses  any  merits.  The  hot-water, 
the  cream,  and  the  sugar,  he  says,  are  responsible  for 
all  the  good  effects  of  tea-drinking.  The  tea  itself  is 


47O  LONDON 

responsible  for  all  the  bad  effects.  He  enumerates  the 
opinions  advanced  by  physicians.  The  learned  Dr. 
Pauli,  physician  to  the  King  of  Denmark,  shows  that 
the  virtues  ascribed  to  it  are  local,  and  do  not  cross 
the  seas  into  Europe.  Men  over  forty,  he  thinks, 
should  never  use  it,  because  it  is  a  desiccative ;  the 
herb  betony  should  be  taken  by  them,  because  it  has 
all  the  virtues  and  none  of  the  vices  of  tea.  Schroder 
and  Quincey  believed  it  good  for  every  complaint ;  the 
learned  Pechlin  held  that  it  is  good  for  scorbutic  cases, 
but  thought  that  veronica  and  Paul's  betony  are  just 
as  good.  Dr.  Hunt  enumerates  many  diseases  for 
which  its  occasional  use  is  good.  Finally,  the  writer 
of  the  pamphlet  concludes  that  tea  will  rapidly  be- 
come cheaper ;  that  it  will  then  go  out  of  fashion  ;  and 
that  it  will  be  replaced  by  our  own  sage,  which,  he 
says,  makes  a  much  more  wholesome  drink,  with  hot- 
water,  cream,  and  sugar. 

But  a  far  greater  person  than  this  anonymous  writer 
set  his  face  and  the  whole  force  of  his  authority  and 
example  against  the  drinking  of  tea.  This  was  no 
other  than  John  Wesley,  who,  in  the  year  1748,  issued 
a  "  Letter  to  a  Friend,  concerning  Tea."  The  follow- 
ing extracts  give  the  practical  part  of  the  letter,  omit- 
ting the  very  strange  argument  against  tea-drinking 
based  upon  Scripture : 

Twenty-nine  years  ago,  when  I  had  spent  a  few  months  at 
Oxford,  having,  as  I  apprehended,  an  exceeding  good  Consti- 
tution, and  being  otherwise  in  Health,  I  was  a  little  surprised 
at  some  Symptoms  of  a  Paralytick  Disorder.  I  could  not  im- 
agine what  should  occasion  that  shaking  of  my  Hand ;  till  I 
observed  it  was  always  worst  after  Breakfast,  and  that  if  I  in- 
termitted drinking  Tea  for  two  or  three  Days,  it  did  not  shake 


GEORGE   THE   SECOND  471 

at  all.  Upon  Inquiry,  I  found  Tea  had  the  same  effect  upon 
others  also  of  my  Acquaintance;  and  therefore  saw,  that  this 
was  one  of  its  natural  Effects  (as  several  Physicians  have  often 
remarked),  especially  when  it  is  largely  and  frequently  drank ; 
and  most  of  all  on  Persons  of  weak  Nerves.  Upon  this  I  les- 
sened the  Quantity,  drank  it  weaker,  and  added  more  Milk  and 
Sugar.  But  still,  for  above  six  and  twenty  Years,  I  was  more 
or  less  subject  to  the  same  Disorder. 

July  was  two  Years,  I  began  to  observe,  that  abundance  of 
the  People  in  London,  with  whom  I  conversed,  laboured  under 
the  same,  and  many  other  Paralytick  Disorders,  and  that  in  a 
much  higher  Degree  ;  insomuch  that  some  of  their  Nerves  were 
quite  unstrung;  their  bodily  Strength  was  quite  decay'd,-and 
they  could  not  go  through  their  daily  Labour.  I  inquired, 
'Are  you  not  an  hard  Drinker?'  And  was  answered  by  one 
and  another, '  No,  indeed,  Sir,  not  I !  I  drink  scarce  any  Thing 
but  a  little  Tea,  Morning  and  Night.'  I  immediately  remem- 
bered my  own  Case ;  and  after  weighing  the  matter  thoroughly, 
easily  gathered  from  many  concurring  Circumstances,  that  it 
was  the  same  Case  with  them. 

I  considered,  '  What  an  Advantage  would  it  be,  to  these 
poor  enfeebled  People,  if  they  would  leave  off  what  so  mani- 
festly impairs  their  Health,  and  thereby  hurts  their  Business 
also  ? — Is  there  Nothing  equally  cheap  which  they  could  use  ? 
Yes,  surely :  And  cheaper  too.  If  they  used  English  Herbs  in 
its  stead  (which  would  cost  either  Nothing,  or  what  is  next  to 
Nothing),  with  the  same  Bread,  Butter,  and  Milk,  they  would 
save  just  the  Price  of  the  Tea.  And  hereby  they  might  not 
only  lessen  their  Pain,  but  in  some  Degree  their  Poverty  too — ' 

Immediately  it  struck  into  my  Mind,  '  But  Example  must 
go  before  Precept.  Therefore  I  must  not  plead  an  Exemption 
for  myself,  from  a  daily  Practice  of  twenty-seven  Years.  I 
I  must  begin.'  I  did  so.  I  left  it  off  myself  in  August,  1746. 
And  I  have  now  had  sufficient  Time  to  try  the  Effects,  which 
have  fully  answered  my  Expectation  :  My  Paralytick  Com- 
plaints are  all  gone  :  My  Hand  is  as  steady  as  it  was  at  Fifteen  : 
Although  I  must  expect  that,  or  other  Weaknesses,  soon :  as 
I  decline  into  the  Vale  of  Years.  And  so  considerable  a  Dif- 


472  LONDON 

ference  do  I  find  in  my  Expence,  that  I  can  make  it  appear, 
from  the  Accounts  now  in  being,  in  only  those  four  Families 
at  London,  Bristol,  Ktngswood,  and  Newcastle,  I  save  upwards 
of  fifty  Pounds  a  Year. 

The  first  to  whom  I  explained  these  Things  at  large,  and  whom 
I  advised  to  set  the  same  Example  to  their  Brethren,  were,  a 
few  of  those,  who  rejoice  to  assist  my  Brother  and  me,  as  our 
Sons  in  the  Gospel.  A  Week  after  I  proposed  it  to  about 
forty  of  those,  whom  I  believed  to  be  strong  in  Faith  :  And  to 
the  next  Morning  to  about  sixty  more,  intreating  them  all,  to 
speak  their  Minds  freely.  They  did  so :  and  in  the  End,  saw 
the  Good  which  might  insue ;  yielded  to  the  Force  of  Scripture 
and  Reason :  And  resolved  all  (but  two  or  three)  by  the  Grace 
of  GOD,  to  make  the  Trial  without  Delay. 

If  you  are  sincere  in  this  Plea ;  if  you  do  not  talk  of  your 
Health,  while  the  real  Objection  is  your  Inclination,  make  a 
fair  Trial  thus,  i.  Take  half  a  Pint  of  Milk  every  Morning,  with 
a  little  Bread,  not  boiled,  but  warmed  only ;  (a  Man  in  toler- 
able Health  might  double  the  Quantity.)  2.  If  this  is  too 
heavy,  add  as  much  Water,  and  boil  it  together  with  a  Spoon- 
ful of  Oatmeal.  3.  If  this  agrees  not,  try  half  a  Pint,  or  a  little 
more,  of  Water-gruel,  neither  thick  nor  thin ;  not  sweetened 
(for  that  may  be  apt  to  make  you  sick)  but  with  a  very  little 
Butter,  Salt,  and  Bread.  4.  If  this  disagrees,  try  Sage,  green 
Balm,  Mint,  or  Pennyroyal  Tea,  infusing  only  so  much  of  the 
Herb  as  just  to  change  the  Colour  of  the  Water.  5.  Try  two 
or  three  of  these  mixed,  in  various  Proportions.  6.  Try  ten  or 
twelve  other  English  Herbs.  7.  Try  Foltron,  a  Mixture  of 
Herbs  to  be  had  at  many  Grocers,  far  healthier  as  well  as 
cheaper  than  Tea.  8.  Try  Coco.  If  after  having  tried  each  of 
these,  for  a  Week  or  ten  Days,  you  find  none  of  them  well 
agree  with  your  Constitution,  then  use  (weak  Green)  Tea  again  : 
But  at  the  same  Time  know,  That  your  having  used  it  so  long 
has  brought  you  near  the  Chambers  of  Death. 

The  still-room  was  of  the  greatest  importance  to  the 
housewife.  She  no  longer  distilled  strong  waters  for 
cordials,  but  she  made  her  preserves  and  her  pickles. 


GEORGE  THE   SECOND  473 

She  made  rose-water,  and  lavender-water,  and  hysteri- 
cal-water ;  Plague-water,  angelica-water,  and  all  kinds 
of  wonderful  waters,  whose  names  and  virtues  are  now 
quite  forgotten.  The  horror  of  the  Plague,  which  sur- 
vived to  a  hundred  years  ago,  is  shown  by  the  ex- 
traordinary complications  of  the  Plague-mixture.  We 
are  to  take  a  pound  each  of  twenty  roots,  sixteen 
flowers,  nineteen  seeds;  we  are  to  take  also  an  ounce 
each  of  nutmeg,  cloves,  and  mace;  we  are  to  shred  the 
flowers,  bruise  the  berries,  and  pound  the  roots  and 
spices  ;  to  these  we  must  add  a  peck  of  green  walnuts ; 
after  mixing  all  together  they  must  be  steeped  in  wine 
lees;  after  a  week  they  must  be  distilled. 

She  also  made  cherry-brandy,  currant-gin,  damson- 
brandy,  and  certain  medicinal  wines  or  confections,  of 
which  the  following  is  a  specimen.  It  is  called  Gas- 
cony  wine.  It  comforts  the  vital  parts,  cures  dropsy, 
and  keeps  the  old  alive.  Yet  we  have  neglected  so 
sovereign  a  medicine ! 

"  Take  ginger,  galingale,  cinnamon,  nutmeg,  grains 
of  paradise,  cloves  bruised,  fennel  seed,  caraway  seeds, 
origanum,  one  ounce  each.  Next,  take  sage,  wild  mar- 
jorum,  pennyroyal,  mint,  red  roses,  thyme,  pellitory, 
rosemary,  wild  thyme,  camomile,  lavender,  one  handful 
of  each.  Beat  the  spices  small,  bruise  the  herbs,  put 
all  into  a  limbeck  with  wine  for  twelve  hours;  then 
distil." 

The  great  thing  was  to  have  as  many  ingredients  as 
possible.  Thus  the  Plague-water  took  fifty-nine  ingre. 
dients ;  the  famous  water  called  "  Mithridate "  took 
forty-six ;  and  the  Venice  treacle,  sixty-two.  When 
they  were  once  made,  they  were  warranted  to  "rectify 
and  maintain  the  body,  clarify  the  blood,  surfle  the 


474  LONDON 

cheek,  perfume  the  skin,  tinct  the  hair,  and  lengthen 
the  appetite."* 

The  London  citizen  of  the  lower  class  never  called 
in  a  physician  unless  he  was  in  immediate  danger ;  the 
herbalist  physicked  him,  and  the  wise  woman.  Very 
often  his  own  wife  was  an  abyss  of  learning  as  to  herbs 
and  their  properties ;  the  bone-setter  belonged  to  a 
distinct  branch  of  the  medical  profession.  There  were 
apothecaries  who  prescribed  as  well  as  sold  drugs. 
For  instance,  early  in  the  century,  one  Dalmahoy  kept 
a  shop  on  Ludgate  Hill,  where  he  sold,  among  other 
things,  drugs,  potions,  electuaries,  powders,  sweetmeats, 
washes  for  the  complexion,  scented  hair-oil  pomades, 
dentifrices,  love  charms,  Italian  masks  to  sleep  in, 
spermaceti  salt,  and  scammony  squills.  And  the  doc- 
tor who  wished  to  attract  the  confidence  of  citizens 
found  a  little  stage  management  useful.  He  wore 
black,  of  course,  with  a  huge  wig ;  he  carried  a  gold- 
headed  cane,  with  a  pomander  box  on  the  top ;  he 
kept  his  hands  always  in  a  muff,  so  that  they  might  be 
soft,  warm  to  the  touch,  and  delicate ;  he  hung  his 
consulting-room  with  looking-glasses,  and  he  littered 
it  with  vials ;  he  had  on  the  mantel-shelf  a  skull,  and 
hanging  to  the  wall  the  skeleton  of  a  monkey ;  on  his 
table  stood  a  folio  in  Greek ;  and  he  preserved  a  Cas- 
tilian  gravity  of  countenance.  Besides  the  physician, 
the  apothecary,  the  herbalist,  and  the  wise  woman, 
there  was  the  barber-surgeon.  His  rjole  was  twined 
with  colors  three — white,  red,  and  blue.  But  I  know 
not  how  long  into  the  century  the  alliance  of  surgeon 
and  barber  continued. 

One  must  not  overlook  the  quack,  who  plays  such  a 
conspicuous  part  in  the  last  century.  There  was  cer- 


GEORGE  THE    SECOND  475 

tainly  one  quack — and  sometimes  half  a  dozen — at 
every  fair.  Some  of  them  went  about  with  a  simple 
caravan,  pulling  teeth  and  selling  potions  and  pills 
and  powders  warranted  to  cure  every  disorder.  Some 
of  them,  more  ambitious,  drove  round  the  country  in 
coaches.  They  dressed  in  great  wigs  and  black  velvet ; 
they  had  a  stage  in  front  of  their  consulting-rooms,  on 
which  a  mountebank  tumbled,  a  girl  danced  on  the 
tight-rope,  and  a  band  of  music  played.  And  the  people 
believed  in  them,  just  as  they  believe  nowadays  in  the 
fellow  who  advertises  his  pills  or  his  powders,  certain 
to  cure  everybody.  It  is  only  changing  the  coach,  the 
caravan,  and  the  stage  for  the  advertisement  columns, 
with  no  more  expense  for  travelling,  horses,  mounte- 
bank, or  music.  It  is  just  the  same  whether  we  sell 
"  angelic  snuff  "  that  will  cure  most  things,  or  "  royal 
snuff  "  that  will  cure  the  rest,  or  electuaries,  or  dis- 
tilled and  medicated  water  that  will  even  make  an  old 
wig  new. 

One  who  has  looked  at  Mrs.  Glasse's  wonderful 
book  on  cookery,  and  reflects  upon  the  variety  and 
wealth  of  dishes  which  then  graced  the  board,  would 
not  lightly  approach  the  subject  of  food.  Yet  there 
are  a  few  plats,  favorites  with  the  people,  which  may 
be  noticed.  Sage  tea,  for  instance,  with  bread-and- 
butter,  is  no  longer  taken  for  breakfast ;  and  some  of 
the  following  dishes  have  disappeared :  Hasty  pudding, 
made  of  flour  and  water  boiled  together,  to  which  dabs 
of  butter  and  spoonfuls  of  brown  sugar  were  added 
when  it  was  poured  out  of  the  pot — no  one  now  ever 
sees  sugar  quite  so  brown  as  that  which  the  West  In- 
dies used  to  send  over  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago. 
Onion  pottage  has  assumed  the  more  complex  form 


476  LONDON 

of  soup.  A  bean  tansy  was  once  universally  beloved; 
there  were  two  forms  of  it ;  in  the  first,  after  bruising 
your  beans,  you  put  them  in  a  dish  with  pepper,  salt, 
cloves,  mace,  the  yolks  of  six  eggs,  a  quarter  of  a 
pound  of  butter,  and  some  slices  of  bacon.  This  you 
baked.  The  other  form  was  when  you  mixed  beans, 
biscuits,  sugar,  sack,  cream,  and  baked  all  in  a  dish 
with  garnish  of  candied  orange-peel.  There  were 
drinks  in  endless  variety,  such  as  purl,  Old  Pharaoh, 
knock-down,  humtie-dumtie,  stipple  shouldree — names 
in  this  degenerate  age,  and  nothing  more.  We  can 
hardly  understand,  either,  the  various  possets,  punch 
in  its  hundred  and  fifty  branches,  raw  shrub — which 
still  stands  in  old-fashioned  bars  —  and  the  various 
cups,  porter  cup,  cider  cup,  port -wine  cup,  egg  flip, 
rum-booze,  and  the  rest. 

The  drinking  of  the  last  century  went  far  beyond 
anything  ever  recorded ;  all  classes  alike  drank ;  they 
began  to  drink  hard  somewhere  about  the  year  1730, 
and  they  kept  it  up  for  a  hundred  years  with  great 
spirit  and  admirable  results,  which  we,  their  grand- 
children, are  now  illustrating.  The  clergy,  grave  and 
sober  merchants,  lawyers,  judges,  the  most  responsi- 
ble people,  drank  freely  ;  -men  about  town,  officers, 
Templars,  tradesmen  drank  more  than  freely  ;  the  low- 
est classes  spent  all  their  money  in  drink,  especially  in 
gin,  upon  which  they  could  get  drunk  for  twopence. 
In  the  year  1736  there  were  7044  gin-shops  in  Lon- 
don— one  house  in  six — and  3200  ale-houses  where  gin 
was  secretly  sold.  The  people  all  went  mad  after  gin. 
The  dinner-hour  was  at  two  for  the  better  sort.  Mrs. 
Glasse  plainly  shows  that  the  living  was  extremely 
good,  and  that  expense  among  people  in  easy  circum- 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND  477 

stances  was  not  much  regarded  where  the  table  was 
concerned.  Certain  dishes,  as  in  Tudor  days,  belonged 
to  certain  days,  as  veal  and  a  gammon  of  bacon  and 
a  tansy  pudding  on  Easter  Day,  or  a  roast  goose  at 
Michaelmas;  red  herrings  and  salt -fish,  with  leeks, 
parsnips,  and  pease  in  Lent;  at  Martinmas,  salt-beef; 
at  Midsummer,  roast  beef  with  butter  and  beans;  at 
All  Saints,  pork  and  souse,  "spats  and  spurling." 
They  were  great  at  puddings — one  may  find  many  an 
excellent  receipt,  long  since  forgotten,  in  Mrs.  Glasse. 
For  dessert  they  had  sweetmeats,  fruits,  liqueurs,  such 
as  ros  solis,  rich  wines,  such  as  Lisbon  and  Madeira, 
or,  where  there  were  men  in  company,  port.  In  the 
morning  they  drank  tea  and  chocolate.  It  is  pretty 
clear  that  the  real  business  of  the  day  was  done  be- 
fore dinner.  That,  in  fact,  was  the  custom  up  to 
twenty  years  ago  in  certain  Yorkshire  towns,  where 
everybody  dined  at  two  o'clock.  The  clerks  were 
practically  left  to  take  care  of  the  offices  in  the  after- 
noon, and  the  masters  sat  over  their  wine.  It  must, 
one  reflects,  be  a  large  business  indeed  where  the  mas- 
ters cannot  get  through  their  share  by  two  o'clock. 

In  the  evening  every  man  had  his  club  or  coffee- 
house. 'We  know  that  Dr.  Johnson  was  unhappy  un- 
less he  had  a  club  for  the  evening.  There  were  clubs 
for  every  class:  they  met  at  taverns,  they  gradually 
superseded  the  coffee-houses  for  evening  purposes. 
The  City  coffee-houses,  however,  became  places  where 
a  great  deal  of  business  was  carried  on.  Thus,  at  the 
Baltic  was  a  subscription  -  room  for  merchants  and 
brokers  engaged  in  the  Russia  trade ;  the  Chapter,  of 
Paternoster  Row,  was  the  resort  of  booksellers ;  the 
Jamaica  was  a  house  of  West  Indian  trade;  Garra- 


478  LONDON 

way's,  Robins's,  Jonathan's,  the  Jerusalem,  Lloyd's, 
were  all  City  coffee-houses  turned  into  rendezvous  for 
merchants.  The  clubs  of  the  last  century  deserve  a 
separate  paper  for  themselves.  The  London  citizen 
went  to  his  club  every  evening.  He  there  solemnly 
discussed  the  news  of  the  day,  smoked  his  pipe  of  to- 
bacco, drank  his  punch,  and  went  home  by  ten  o'clock. 
The  club  was  the  social  life  of  the  City.  For  the 
ladies  there  was  their  own  social  life.  Women  lived 

much  more  with  other 
women  ;  they  had  their 
visits  and  society  among 
each  other  in  the  day- 
time. While  the  men 
worked  at  their  shops 
and  offices,  the  women 
gadded  about  ;  in  the 
evening  they  sat  at 


VISITING  CARD 

went  out.     In  one  fam- 

ily of  my  acquaintance  there  is  a  tradition  belonging 
to  the  end  of  the  last  century,  that  when  the  then 
head  of  the  house  came  home  at  ten  the  girls  all  hur- 
ried off  to  bed,  the  reason  being  that  the  good  man's 
temper  at  the  late  hour,  what  with  the  fatigues  of 
the  day  and  the  punch  of  the  evening,  was  by  no 
means  uncertain. 

A  manuscript  diary  of  a  middle-class  family  belong- 
ing to  the  time  of  George  the  First  shows  anything 
but  a  stay-at-home  life.  The  ladies  were  always  going 
about.  But  they  stayed  at  home  in  the  evenings. 
There  was  a  very  good  reason  why  the  women  should 
stay  at  home.  The  streets  were  infested  with  prowling 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND  479 

thieves  and  with  dangerous  bullies:  no  woman  could  go 
out  after  dark  in  the  City  without  an  armed  escort  of 
her  father's  apprentices  or  his  men-servants.  In  1744 
the  Lord  Mayor  complains  that  "  confederacies  of 
evil-disposed  persons,  armed  with  bludgeons,  pistols, 
and  cutlasses,  infest  lanes  and  private  passages,"  and 
issue  forth  to  rob  and  wound  peaceful  people.  Fur- 
ther, that  these  gangs  have  defeated,  wounded,  and 
killed  the  officers  of  justice  sent  against  them.  As 
yet  they  had  not  arrived  at  the  simple  expedient  of 
strengthening  the  police : 

As  for  the  dangers  of  venturing  out  after  dark,  they 
are  summed  up  by  Jonson  : 

"  Prepare  for  death  if  here  at  night  you  roam, 
And  sign  your  will  before  you  step  from  home. 
Some  fiery  fop,  with  new  commission  vain, 
Who  sleeps  in  brambles  till  he  kills  his  man — 
Some  frolic  drunkard  reeling  from  a  feast, 
Provokes  a  broil  and  stabs  you  for  a  jest. 
Yet  even  these  heroes  mischievously  gay, 
Lords  of  the  street  and  terrors  of  the  way, 
Flushed  as  they  are  with  folly,  youth,  and  wine, 
Their  prudent  insults  to  the  poor  confine : 
Afar  they  mark  the  flambeau's  bright  approach, 
And  shun  the  shining  train  and  golden  coach." 

The  occupations  of  a  young  lady — not  a  lady  of  the 
highest  fashion — of  this  time- are  given  by  a  contem- 
porary writer.  He  says  that  she  makes  tippets,  works 
handkerchiefs  in  catgut,  collects  shells,  makes  grot- 
toes, copies  music,  paints,  cuts  out  figures  and  land- 
scapes, and  makes  screens.  She  dances  a. minuet  or 
cotillion,  and  she  can  play  ombre,  lansquenet,  qua- 
drille, and  Pope  Joan.  These  are  frivolous  accomplish- 


480  LONDON 

ments,  but  the  writer  says  nothing  of  the  morning's 
work — the  distilling  of  creams,  the  confecting  of  cakes 
and  puddings  and  sauces,  the  needle-work,  and  all  the 
useful  things.  When  these  were  done,  why  should 
not  the  poor  girl  show  her  accomplishments  and  taste 
in  the  cutting  out  of  landscapes  with  a  pair  of  scissors  ? 

They  certainly  did  not  always  -stay  at  home.  In 
the  summer  they  sometimes  went  to  Vauxhall,  where 
the  girls  enjoyed  the  sight  of  the  wicked  world  as 
much  as  they  liked,  the  singing  and  the  supper  and 
the  punch  that  followed. 

We  have  quite  lost  the  mug-house.  This  was  a  kind 
of  music-hall,  a  large  room  where  only  men  were  ad- 
mitted, and  where  ale  or  stout  was  the  only  drink 
consumed.  Every  man  had  his  pipe ;  there  was  a 
president,  a  harp  was  played  at  one  end  of  the  room, 
and  out  of  the  company  present  one  after  the  other 
stood  up  to  sing.  Between  the  songs  there  were  toasts 
and  speeches,  sometimes  of  a  political  kind,  and  the 
people  drank  to  each  other  from  table  to  table. 

It  was  a  great  fighting  time.  Every  man  who  went 
abroad  knew  that  he  might  have  to  fight  to  defend 
himself  against  footpad  or  bully.  Most  men  carried 
a  stout  stick.  When  Dr.  Johnson  heard  that  a  man 
had  threatened  to  horsewhip  him,  he  ordered  a  thick 
cudgel  and  was  easy  in  his  mind.  There  were  no  po- 
lice, and  therefore  a  man  had  to  fight.  It  cannot  be 
doubted  that  the  martial  spirit  of  the  country,  which 
during  the  whole  century  was  extraordinary,  was  great- 
ly maintained  by  the  practice  of  fighting,  which  pre- 
vailed alike  in  all  ranks.  Too  much  order  is  not  all 
pure  gain.  If  we  have  got  rid  of  the  Mohocks  and 
street  scourers,  we  have  lost  a  good  deal  of  that  read- 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND 


481 


iness  to  fight  which  firmly  met  those  Mohocks  and 
made  them  fly. 

I  suppose  that  one  can  become  accustomed  to 
everything.  But  the  gibbets  which  one  saw  stuck  up 
everywhere,  along  the  Edgeware  Road,  on  the  river- 
side, on  Blackheath,  on  Hampstead  Heath,  or  Ken- 
nington  Common,  must  have  been  an  unpleasing  sight. 
Some  of  the  gibbets  remained  until  early  in  this 
century. 

The  subject  of  beer  is  of  world-wide  importance.  It 
must  be  understood  that  all  through  the  century  the 
mystery  of  brewing  was  continually  advancing.  We 
finally  shook  off  the  heresies  of  broom,  bay -berries, 
and  ivy-berries  as  flavoring  things  for  beer;  we  per- 
fected the  manufacture  of  stout.  There  sprang  up 
during  the  century  what  hardly  existed  before — a  crit- 


VAUXHALL 


482  LONDON 

ical  feeling  for  beer.  It  may  be  found  in  the  poets 
and  in  the  novelists.  Goldsmith  has  it ;  Fielding  has 
it.  There  were  over  fifty  brewers  in  London,  where, 
as  a  national  drink,  it  entirely  displaced  wine.  The 
inns  vied  with  each  other  in  the  excellence  of  their 
tap, 

"  Where  the  Red  Lion,  staring  o'er  the  way, 
Invites  each  passing  stranger  that  can  pay ; 
Where  Calvert's  broth  and  Parsons'  black  champagne 
Regale  the  drabs  and  bloods  of  Drury  Lane." 

There  were  many  houses  where  every  night  there  was 
singing  and  playing,  to  the  accompaniment  of  beer 
alone  ;  and  there  was  at  least  one  famous  debating  club 
— the  Robin  Hood — where  stout  was  the  only  drink 
permissible. 

Here  are  one  or  two  notes  of  domestic  interest.  The 
washing  of  the  house  was  always  done  at  home.  And, 
which  was  a  very  curious  custom,  the  washer-woman 
began  her  work  at  midnight.  Why  this  was  so  ordered, 
I  know  not ;  but  there  must  have  been  some  reason. 
During  the  many  wars  of  the  century  wheat  went  up 
to  an  incredible  price.  One  year  it  was  104^.  a  quar- 
ter, so  that  bread  was  three  times  as  dear  as  it  is  at 
present.  Housewives  in  those  times  cut  their  bread 
with  their  own  hands,  and  kept  it  until  it  was  stale.  If 
you  wanted  a  place  under  Government,  you  could  buy 
one ;  the  sum  of  .£500  would  get  you  a  comfortable 
berth  in  the  Victualling  Office,  for  instance,  where  the 
perquisites,  pickings,  and  bribes  for  contracts  made  the 
service  worth  having.  Members  of  Parliament,  who 
had  the  privilege  of  franking  letters,  sometimes  sold 
the  right  for  £300  a  year.  Ale-houses  were  marked 


GEORGE   THE    SECOND  483 

by  chequers  on  the  door-post — to  this  day  the  Chequers 
is  a  common  tavern  sign.  Bakers  had  a  lattice  at  their 
doors.  All  tradesmen — not  servants  only,  but  master 
tradesmen  —  asked  for  Christmas-boxes.  The  Fleet 
weddings  went  on  merrily.  There  was  great  feasting 
on  the  occasion  of  a  wedding,  duly  conducted  in  the 
parish  church.  On  the  day  of  the  wedding  the  bride- 
groom himself  waited  on  bride  and  guests. 

If  the  married  couple  were  city  people,  they  were 
regaled  after  the  ceremony  with  the  marrow-bones  and 
cleavers — perhaps  the  most  delectable  music  ever  in- 
vented. It  was  also  costly,  because  the  musicians 
wanted  drink,  and  plenty  of  it,  as  well  as  money. 

Nothing  seems  grander  than  to  hear  of  a  city  illu- 
minated in  honor  of  a  victory  or  peace,  or  the  King's 
birthday.  For  the  most  part,  however,  the  grand  illu- 
mination consisted  of  nothing  but  a  thin  candle  stuck 
in  a  lump  of  clay  in  the  window. 

In  the  days  before  the  policeman  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  rough-and-ready  justice  done  in  the  streets — 
pickpockets  were  held  under  the  pump  till  they  were 
half-dead ;  informers  were  pelted  through  the  streets, 
tarred,  and  feathered  ;  those  worthy  citizens  who  beat 
their  wives  were  serenaded  with  pots  and  pans,  and 
had  to  endure  the  cries  of  indignant  matrons.  The 
stocks  were  always  in  view ;  the  pillory  was  constant- 
ly in  use.  Now,  the  pillory  was  essentially  punish- 
ment by  the  people ;  if  they  sympathized  with  the 
culprit,  he  escaped  even  disgrace ;  if  they  condemned 
him,  addled  eggs,  rotten  potatoes,  turnips,  dead  cats, 
mud  and  filth,  flying  in  his  face,  proclaimed  aloud  the 
opinion  of  the  people. 

One  thing  more — the  universal  patten.  When  women 


484  LONDON 

went  abroad  all  wore  pattens ;  it  was  a  sensible  fashion 
in  days  of  bad  pavements  and  muddy  crossings,  as 
Gay  wrote  kindly,  yet  with  doubtful  philology : 

"The  patten  now  supports  each  frugal  dame, 
Which  from  the  blue-eyed  Patty  takes  the  name." 

There  was  also  great  expense  and  ostentation  ob- 
served at  funerals ;  every  little  shopkeeper,  it  was 
observed,  must  have  a  hearse  and  half  a  dozen  mourn- 
ing-coaches to  be  carried  a  hundred  yards  to  the  par- 
ish church-yard.  They  were  often  conducted  at  night, 
in  order  to  set  off  the  ceremony  by  hired  mourners 
bearing  flambeaux. 

The  amount  of  flogging  in  the  army  and  navy  is 
appalling  to  think  of.  That  carried  on  ashore  is  a 
subject  of  some  obscurity.  The  punishment  of  whip- 
ping has  never  been  taken  out  of  our  laws.  Garroters, 
and  robbers  who  are  violent  are  still  flogged,  and 
boys  are  birched.  I  know  not  when  they  ceased  to 
flog  men  through  the  streets  at  the  cart-tail,  nor  when 
they  left  off  flogging  women.  The  practice  certainly 
continued  well  into  the  century.  In  the  prisons  it 
was  a  common  thing  to  flog  the  men.  As  for  the  se- 
verity of  the  laws  protecting  property,  one  illustration 
will  suffice.  What  can  be  thought  of  laws  which  al- 
lowed the  hanging  of  two  children  for  stealing  a  purse 
with  two  shillings  and  a  brass  counter  in  it  ?  Some- 
thing, however,  may  be  said  for  Father  Stick.  He 
ordered  everything,  directed  everything,  superintend- 
ed everything.  Without  him  nothing  was  ever  done ; 
nothing  could  be  done.  Men  were  flogged  into  drill 
and  discipline,  they  were  flogged  into  courage,  they 
were  flogged  into  obedience,  boys  were  flogged  into 


GEORGE   THE   SECOND  485 

learning,  prentices  were  flogged  into  diligence,  women 
were  flogged  into  virtue.  Father  Stick  has  still  his 
disciples,  but  in  the  last  century  he  was  king. 

We  have  .spoken  of  station  and  order.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  there  was  then  no  pretence  of  a  clerk, 
or  any  one  of  that  kind,  calling  himself  a  gentleman. 
Steele,  however,  notes  the  attempts  made  by  small 
people  to  dub  themselves  esquire,  and  says  we  shall 
soon  be  a  nation  of  armigeri.  The  Georgian  clerk 
was  a  servant — the  servant  of  his  master,  and  a  very 
faithful  servant,  too,  for  the  most  part.  His  services 
were  rewarded  at  a  rate  of  pay  varying  from  £20  to 
;£ioo  a  year.  A  clerk  in  a  Government  office  seldom 
got  more  than  £50,  but  some  of  them  had  chances  of 
a  kind  which  we  now  call  dishonest.  In  other  words, 
they  took  perquisites,  commissions,  considerations, 
and  bribes. 

I  have  said,  elsewhere,  that  the  London  craftsman 
sank  about  this  time  to  the  lowest  level  he  has  ever 
reached.  In  the  City  itself,  as  we  have  seen,  he  was 
carefully  looked  after.  Each  little  parish  consisted  of 
two  or  three  streets,  where  every  resident  was  well 
known.  But  already  the  narrow  bounds  of  the  Free- 
dom had  pushed  out  the  people  more  and  more.  The 
masters — the  merchants  and  retailers — still  remained  ; 
those  who  were  pushed  out  were  the  craftsmen.  When 
they  left  the  City  they  not  only  left  the  parish  where 
all  were  friends — all,  at  least,  belonging  to  the  same 
ship's  crew ;  where  there  was  a  kindly  feeling  towards 
the  poor;  where  the  boys  and  girls  were  taught  the 
ways  of  virtue  and  the  Catechism — they  left  the  com- 
pany, to  which  they  were  no  longer  apprenticed,  and 
which  became  nothing  but  a  rich  company  of  masters 


486  LONDON 

or  men  unconnected  with  the  trade;  they  left  the 
Church ;  they  left  the  school ;  they  left  all  the  chari- 
ties, helps,  encouragements  which  had  formerly  be- 
longed to  them.  They  went  to  Whitechapel,  to  St. 
Katherine's  Precinct,  to  Spital  Fields,  to  Clerkenwell. 
They  lived  by  themselves,  knowing  no  law  except  the 
law  of  necessity,  and  they  drank — drank — drank.  No 
energetic  vicar,  no  active  young  curate,  no  deaconess, 
no  Sister,  no  Bible -woman  ventured  among  them. 
They  went  forth  in  the  morning  to  their  work,  and  in 
the  evening  they  feturned  home  to  their  dens.  We 
read  about  these  people  in  Fielding,  Smollett,  Colqu- 
houn,  Eden,  and  others ;  we  see  what  they  were  like 
in  Hogarth.  Their  very  brutality  rendered  them 
harmless.  Had  they  been  a  little  less  brutal,  a  little 
more  intelligent — had  they  been  like  the  lower  sort  of 
Parisian,  there  might  have  been  a  revolution  in  this 
country  with  brutalities  as  bad  as  any  that  marked 
the  first  act  in  that  great  drama  played  between  1792 
and  1815. 

The  seamy  side  of  London  in  the  last  century  has 
been  laid  bare  by  one  writer  after  another.  Because 
it  seems  more  picturesque  than  the  daily  humdrum 
life  of  honest  folk  it  is  always  chosen  in  preference  to 
the  latter.  Gentlemen  who  live  by  their  wits  are 
common  in  every  age ;  they  adorn  the  Victorian  as 
much  as  the  Elizabethan  period.  The  rogue  is  always 
with  us.  There  are,  however,  as  we  have  seen,  varie- 
ties belonging  to  each  period.  Thus  the  kidnapper, 
who  has  now  left  these  islands,  was  formerly  a  very 
common  variety  of  rogue.  He  was  sometimes  called 
crimp,  sometimes  kidnapper,  and  his  trade  was  the 
procuring  of  recruits.  In  time  of  war  he  enlisted  for 


GEORGE   THE   SECOND 


487 


the  army  and  the  navy,  and  in  time  of  peace  for  the 
merchant  service  and  the  East  India  Company's.  He 
carried  on  his  business  with  all  the  tricks  and  dodges 
which  suggested  themselves  to  an  ingenious  mind, 


SIR   JOHN    FIELDING  S   COURT,   BOW   STREET 

but  his  favorite  way  of  working  was  this  :  He  prowled 
about  places  where  young  countrymen  might  be  found. 
One  presently  appeared  who  had  come  to  town  on 
business  or  for  amusement.  He  lent  a  willing  ear  to 
the  courteous  and  friendly  stranger  who  so  kindly  ad- 
vised him  as  to  the  sights  and  the  dangers  of  the 


488  LONDON 

wicked  town.  He  readily  followed  when  the  stranger 
proposed  a  glass  in  an  honest  tavern,  which  could  be 
highly  recommended.  He  sat  down  without  suspicion 
in  a  parlor  where  there  were  two  or  three  of  the  right 
sort,  together  with  two  gallant  fellows  in  uniforms, 
sergeants  of  the  grenadiers,  or  bo's'ns  in  the  E.  I.  C. 
service.  He  listened  while  these  heroes  recounted 
their  deeds  of  valor;  he  listened  with  open  mouth; 
and,  alas!  he  drank  with  open  mouth  as  well.  Pres- 
ently he  became  so  inflamed  with  the  liquor  that  he 
acceded  to  the  sergeant's  invitation,  and  took  the 
•bounty  money  then  and  there.  If  he  did  not,  he 
drank  on  until  he  was  speechless.  When  he  recov- 
ered next  day,  his  friend — the  courteous  stranger  of 
the  day  before — was  present  to  remind  him  that  he 
had  enlisted,  that  the  bounty  money  was  in  his  pock- 
et, and  that  the  cockade  was  on  his  hat.  If  he  resist- 
ed he  was  hauled  before  a  magistrate,  the  sergeants 
being  ready  to  prove  that  he  voluntarily  enlisted. 
This  done,  he  was  conducted  to  a  crimp's  house,  of 
which  there  were  many  in  different  parts  of  London, 
and  there  kept  until  he  could  be  put  on  board  or  taken 
to  some  military  depot.  In  the  house,  which  was 
barred  and  locked  like  a  prison,  he  was  regaled  with 
rum  which  kept  him  stupid  and  senseless.  Should 
he  try  to  escape,  he  was  charged  with  robbery  and 
hanged. 

The  continual  succession  of  wars  enriched  London 
with  that  delightful  character,  the  man  who  had 
served  in  the  army — perhaps  borne  his  Majesty's  com- 
mission— and  had  returned  to  live,  not  by  his  wits, 
because  he  had  none,  but  by  his  strength  of  arm,  his 
skill  of  fence,  and  his  powers  of  bluster.  He  became 


GEORGE    THE   SECOND  489 

the  bully.  As  such  he  was  either  the  Darby  Captain, 
who  was  paid  to  be  the  gaming-house  bully,  or  the 
Cock  and  Bottle  Captain,  who  was  the  ale-house 
bully,  and  fought  bailiffs  for  his  friends ;  or  the  Tash 
Captain,  who  now  has  another  name,  and  may  be 
found  near  Coventry  Street. 

The  Setter  played  a  game  which  brought  in  great 
gains,  but  was  extremely  difficult  and  delicate.  He 
was  the  agent  for  ladies  whose  reputations  were — let 
us  say  unjustly — cracked.  His  object  was  to  restore 
them  to  society  by  honorable  marriage,  and  not  only 
to  society,  but  also  to  position,  credit,  and  luxury.  A 
noble  ambition !  He  therefore  frequented  the  coffee- 
houses, the  bagnios,  and  the  gambling  places  on  the 
lookout  for  heirs  and  eldest  sons,  or,  if  possible,  young 
men  of  wealth  and  position.  Of  course  they  must  be 
without  experience.  He  would  thus  endeavor  to  ob- 
tain the  confidence  of  his  victim  until  it  became  safe 
to  introduce  him  to  the  beautiful  young  widow  of 
good  family,  and  so  on  ;  the  rest  we  may  guess.  Some- 
times, of  course,  the  young  heir  was  a  young  fortune- 
hunter,  who  married  the  widow  of  large  fortune  only 
to  find  that  she  was  a  penniless  adventuress  with 
nothing  but  debts,  which  he  thus  took  upon  himself 
and  paid  by  a  life-long  imprisonment  in  the  Fleet. 

The  travelling  quack  we  have  considered.  There 
was  another  kind  who  was  stationary  and  had  a  good 
house  in  the  City.  This  kind  cured  by  sympathy,  by 
traction,  by  earth-bathing,  by  sea-bathing,  by  the  quin- 
tessence of  Bohea  tea  and  cocoanuts  distilled  together, 
by  drugs,  and  by  potions.  He  advertised  freely ,  he 
drove  about  ostentatiously  in  a  glass  coach  ;  he  had 
all  kinds  of  tricks  to  arrest  attention  —  for  instance, 


490  LONDON 

the  Goddess  of  Hygeia  was  to  be  seen  by  all  callers 
daily,  at  the  house  of  the  great  Dr.  Graham.  The 
cruel  persecution  of  the  College  of 'Physicians  has  ex- 
tinguished the  quack,  who,  if  he  now  exists,  must  have 
first  passed  the  examinations  required  by  the  regular 
practitioner. 

The  bogus  auction  has  always  been  a  favorite 
method  of  getting  quick  returns  and  a  rapid  turn- 
over. It  is  not  now  so  common  as  formerly,  but  it 
still  exists. 

The  intelligence  office,  where  you  paid  a  shilling 
and  were  promised  a  place  of  great  profit,  and  were 
called  upon  for  another  shilling  and  still  another,  and 
then  got  nothing,  is  now  called  an  agency,  and  is  said 
to  flourish  very  well  indeed. 

The  pretended  old  friend,  who  was  a  common  char- 
acter in  1760,  has,  I  am  told,  crossed  the  ocean  and 
changed  his  name.  He  is  now  a  naturalized  citizen 
of  the  United  States,  and  his  name  is  Bunco  Steerer. 

Let  me  add  to  this  account — too  scanty  and  meagre 
— of  London  in  the  last  century  a  brief  narrative — 
borrowed,  not  invented — of  a  Sunday  holiday.  It  has 
been  seen  that  the  City  was  careful  about  the  church- 
going  of  the  citizens.  But  laws  were  forgotten,  man- 
ners relaxed ;  outside  the  City  no  such  discipline  was 
possible,  nor  was  any  attempted.  And  to  the  people 
within  the  walls,  as  well  as  to  those  without,  Sunday 
gradually  became  a  day  of  holiday  and  pleasure.  You 
shall  see  what  a  day  was  made  of  a  certain  Sunday  in 
the  summer  of  17 —  by  a  pair  of  citizens  whose  names 
have  perished. 

The  holiday  makers  slept  at  the  Marlborough  Head, 
in  Bishopsgate  Street,  whence  they  sallied  forth  at 


GEORGE   THE   SECOND 


491 


four  in  the  morning.  Early  as  it  was,  the  gates  of 
the  inn-yards  were  thronged  with  young  people  gayly 
dressed,  waiting  for  the  horses,  chaises,  and  carriages 
which  were  to  carry  them  to  Windsor,  Hampton 
Court,  Richmond,  etc.,  for  the  day.  They  were  most- 
ly journeymen  or  apprentices,  and  the  ladies  with 
them  were  young  milliners  and  mantua-makers.  They 
first  walked  westward,  making  for  the  Foundling  Hos- 
pital, on  their  way  passing  a  rabble  rout  drinking  sa- 
loop  and  fighting.  Arrived  at  the  fields  lying  south 


INTERIOR   OF   ST.   STEPHEN,  WALBROOK 


492  LONDON 

of  that  institution,  they  met  with  a  company  of  serv- 
ants, men  and  girls,  who  had  stolen  some  of  their 
masters'  wine,  and  were  out  in  the  fields  to  drink  it. 
They  shared  in  the  drink,  but  deplored  the  crime.  It 
will  be  observed,  as  we  go  along,  that  a  very  credita- 
ble amount  of  drink  accompanied  this  holiday.  Then 
they  continued  walking  across  the  fields  till  they  came 
to  Tottenham  Court  Road,  where  the  Wesleyans,  in 
their  tabernacle,  were  holding  an  early  service.  Out- 
side the  chapel  a  prize-fight  was  going  on,  with  a 
crowd  of  ruffians  and  betting  men.  It  was,  however, 
fought  on  the  cross. 

They  next  retraced  their  steps  across  the  fields  and 
arrived  at  Bagnigge  Wells,  which  lay  at  the  east  of 
the  Gray's  Inn  Road,  nearly  opposite  what  is  now 
Mecklenburgh  Square,  and  north-east  of  the  St.  An- 
drew's Burying- ground.  Early  as  it  was,  the  place 
already  contained  several  hundreds  of  people.  The 
Wells  included  a  great  room  for  concerts  and  enter- 
tainments, a  garden  planted  with  trees,  shrubs,  and 
flowers,  and  provided  with  walks,  a  fish-pond,  fount- 
ain, rustic  bridge,  rural  cottages,  and  seats.  The  ad- 
mission was  threepence.  They  had  appointed  to 
breakfast  at  the  Bank  Coffee-house,  therefore  they 
could  not  wait  longer  here.  On  the  way  to  the  City 
they  stopped  at  the  Thatched  House  and  took  a  gill 
of  red  port. 

The  Bank  Coffee-house  was  filled  with  people  tak- 
ing breakfast  and  discussing  politics  or  trade*  It  is 
not  stated  what  they  had  for  breakfast,  but  as  one  of 
the  company  is  spoken  of  as  finishing  his  dish  of 
chocolate,  it  may  be  imagined  that  this  was  the  usual 
drink.  A  lovely  barmaid  smiled  farewell  when  they 


GEORGE   THE   SECOND 


493 


left  the  place.  From  this  coffee-house  they  went  to 
church  at  St.  Mary-le-Strand,  where  a  bishop  preached 
a  charity  sermon.  At  the  close  of  the  sermon  the 
charity  children  were  placed  at  the  doors,  loudly  im- 
ploring the  benefactions  of  the  people.  After  church 
they  naturally  wanted  a 
little  refreshment ;  they 
therefore  went  to  a  house 
near  St.  Paul's,  where  the 
landlord  provided  them 
a  cold  collation  with  a 
pint  of  Lisbon. 

The  day  being  fine, 
they  agreed  to  walk  to 
Highgate  and  to  dine  at 
the  ordinary  there.  On 
the  way  they  were  beset 
by  beggars  in  immense 
numbers.  They  arrived 
at  Highgate  just  in  time 
for  the  dinner  —  prob- 
ably at  two  o'clock.  The  company  consisted  prin- 
cipally of  reputable  tradesmen  and  their  "families. 
There  was  an  Italian  musician,  a  gallery  reporter — 
that  is,  a  man  who  attended  the  House,  and  wrote 
down  the  debates  from  memory — and  a  lawyer's  clerk. 
The  ordinary  consisted  of  two  or  three  dishes  and 
cost  a  shilling  each.  They  had  a  bottle  of  wine  and 
sat  till  three  o'clock,  when  they  left  the  tavern  and 
walked  to  Primrose  Hill.  Here  they  met  an  acquaint- 
ance in  the  shape  of  an  Eastcheap  cheesemonger,  who 
was  dragging  his  children  in  a  four-wheel  chaise  up 
the  hill,  while  his  wife  carried  the  good  man's  wig 


CONCERT   TICKET 


494  LONDON 

and  hat  on  the  point  of  his  walking-stick.  The  hill 
was  crowded  with  people  of  all  kinds. 

When  they  had  seen  enough  they  came  away  and 
walked  to  the  top  of  Hampstead  Hill.  Here,  at  the 
famous  Spaniard's,  they  rested  and  took  a  bottle  of 
port. 

It  was  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  when  they  left 
Hampstead  and  made  for  Islington,  intending  to  see 
the  White  Conduit  House  on  their  way  to  the  Surrey 
side. 

All  these  gardens — to  leave  these  travellers  for  a 
moment  —  Ranelagh,  Vauxhall,  Bagnigge  Wells,  and 
the  rest,  were  alike.  They  contained  a  concert  and  a 
promenade  room,  a  garden  laid  out  in  pleasing  walks, 
a  fish-pond  with  arbors,  and  rooms  for  suppers,  a 
fountain,  a  band  of  music,  and  a  dancing-floor.  The 
amusements  of  Ranelagh  are  thus  described  by  a  vis- 
itor who  dropped  into  verse : 

"  To  Ranelagh,  once  in  my  life, 

By  good-natured  force  I  was  driven ; 
The  nations  had  ceased  from  their  strife, 

And  peace  beamed  her  radiance  from  heaven. 

"  (I  stop  to  apologize  for  these  two  lines ;  but  everybody  knows 
that  strife  and  heaven  are  very  neat  rhymes  of  life  and  driven. 
Otherwise  I  admit  that  they  have  nothing  to  do  with  Ranelagh.) 

"  What  wonders  were  there  to  be  found 

That  a  clown  might  enjoy  or  disdain  ? 
First  we  traced  the  gay  circle  around, 
And  then  we  went  round  it  again. 

"  A  thousand  feet  rustled  on  mats — 
A  carpet  that  once  had  been  green; 


GEORGE  THE   SECOND  495 

Men  bowed  with  their  outlandish  hats, 

With  women  so  fearfully  keen. 
Fair  maids,  who,  at  home  in  their  haste, 

Had  left  all  their  clothes  but  a  train, 
Swept  the  floor  clean  as  they  passed, 

Then  walked  round  and  swept  it  again." 

At  these  gardens  this  Sunday  afternoon  there  were 
several  hundreds  of  people,  not  of  the  more  distin- 
guished kind.  They  found  a  very  pretty  girl  here 
who  was  so  condescending  as  to  take  tea  with  them. 

Leaving  the  Conduit  House,  they  paid  another  visit 
to  Bagnigge  Wells  in  order  to  drink  a  bowl  of  negus. 
By  this  time  the  place  was  a  scene  of  open  profliga- 
cy. They  next  called  a  coach,  and  drove  to  Kensing- 
ton Gardens,  where  they  walked  about  for  an  hour 
seeing  the  great  people.  Among  others,  they  had  the 
happiness  of  beholding  the  D —  of  Gr-ft-n,  accom- 
panied by  Miss  P — ,  and  L — d  H — y  with  the  famous 
Mrs.  W — .  Feeling  the  want  of  a  little  refreshment, 
they  sought  a  tea-garden  in  Brompton  known  as 
Cromwell's  Gardens  or  Florida  Gardens,  where  they 
drank  coffee,  and  contemplated  the  beauty  of  many 
lovely  creatures. 

It  was  now  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening.  In  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Mall  they  saw  a  great  block  of 
carriages  on  their  way  to  Lady  H — 's  Sunday  routs. 
The  explorers  then  visited  certain  houses  frequented 
by  the  baser  sort,  and  were  rewarded  in  the  manner 
that  might  have  been  expected — namely,  with  ribaldry 
and  blasphemy.  As  the  clock  struck  ten  they  arrived 
at  the  Dog  and  Duck,  St.  George's  Fields.  From 
the  Dog  and  Duck  they  repaired  to  The  Temple  of 
Flora,  a  place  of  the  same  description  as  Bagnigge 


496  LONDON 

Wells.  Here,  as  the  magistrates  had  refused  a  wine 
license,  they  kept  a  citizen  and  vintner  on  the  prem- 
ises. He,  by  virtue  of  his  livery,  had  the  right  to  sell 
wine  without  a  license.  Our  friends  took  a  bottle 
here.  The  Apollo  Gardens,  the  Thatched  House,  the 
Flora  Tea-garden,  were  also  places  of  resort  of  the 
same  kind,  all  with  a  garden,  tea  and  music  rooms, 
and  a  company  of  doubtful  morals.  They  drove  next 
to  the  Bermondsey  Spa  Gardens,  described  as  an  ele- 
gant place  of  entertainment,  two  miles  from  London 
Bridge,  with  a  walk  hung  with  colored  lamps  not  in- 
ferior to  that  of  Vauxhall.  There  was  also  a  lovely 
pasteboard  castle  and  a  museum  of  curiosities.  They 
had  another  bottle  here,  and  a  comfortable  glass  of 
cherry -brandy  before  getting  into  the  carriage.  Fi- 
nally they  reached  the  place  whence  they  started  at 
midnight,  and  after  a  final  bumper  of  red  port  retired 
to  rest.  A  noble  Sunday,  lasting  from  four  o'clock  in 
the  morning  till  midnight.  They  walked  twenty  miles 
at  least ;  they  drank  all  day  long — port,  Lisbon,  choco- 
late, negus,  tea,  coffee,  and  cherry-brandy,  besides  their 
beer  at  dinner.  On  nine  different  occasions  they 
called  for  a  pint  or  a  bottle.  A  truly  wonderful  and 
improving  Sunday! 

A  chapter  on  Georgian  London  would  be  incom- 
plete indeed  which  failed  to  notice  the  institution 
which  plays  so  large  a  part  in  the  literature  of  the 
period — the  debtors'  prison.  Strange  it  seems  to  us 
who  have  only  recently  reformed  in  this  matter,  that 
a  man  should  be  locked  up  for  life  because  he  was 
unable  to  pay  a  trifling  debt,  or  even  a  heavy  debt. 
Everybody  knows  the  Fleet,  with  its  racquet  courts 
and  its  prisoners ;  everybody  knows  the  King's  Bench, 


GEORGE    THE   SECOND  497 

and  the  Marshalsea  also  is  familiar  to  us.  Here,  how- 
ever, is  a  picture  of  Wood  Street  Compter,  which  is 
nqt  so  well  known.  In  this  place,  one  of  the  two  City 
Compters  under  the  sheriffs,  were  confined  not  only 
debtors,  but  also  persons  charged  with  night  assaults 
— men  or  women — and  felons  and  common  thieves, 
the  latter  perhaps  when  Newgate  was  full.  For  these 
there  was  the  strong  room,  in  which  men  and  women 
were  locked  up  together,  unless  they  could  afford  a 
separate  room,  for  which  they  paid  two  shillings  a 
night  before  commitment,  and  one  shilling  a  night 
after.  On  the  master's  side,  those  of  the  debtors  who 
could  afford  to  pay  for  them  had  separate  rooms,  but 
miserably  furnished  ;  on  the  common  side  there  were 
two  wards.  In  one  of  these,  which  was  nearly  dark 
and  called  the  Hole,  shelves  were  arranged  along  the 
wall  like  the  bunks  in  a  cabin  j  here  those  who  had 
any  beds  laid  them  ,  those  who  had  none  slept  on  the 
bare  shelf.  This  was  the  living-room  and  the  cook- 
ing-room, as  well  as  the  sleeping-room.  The  smell  of 
the  place,  the  narrator  says,  was  intolerable.  In  the 
second  ward  of  the  common  side  lived  those  a  little 
removed  from  destitution,  who  could  pay  fifteen  pence 
a  week  for  the  accommodation  of  a  bed.  Otherwise 
it  was  the  same  as  the  first  ward.  The  women  had  a 
separate  ward.  There  was  a  drinking- bar  here  in  a 
kind  of  cellar — "  the  place  full  of  ill  smells  and  every 
inconvenience  that  man  could  conceive."  Quarrels, 
fightings,  and  brawls  were  punished  by  black  hole. 
Men  in  prison  on  charge  of  night  assaults  were  called 
rats  ;  women  under  similar  charges  were  called  mice. 

It  seems  as  if  life  under  such  conditions  must  have 
been  intolerable.      Never  to  be  alone,  never   to  be 
32 


498  LONDON 

clean,  never  to  be  quiet,  never  to  be  free  from  the 
smell  of  bad  cooking,  confined  rooms,  stale  tobacco, 
vile  spirits ;  never  to  be  free  from  the  society  of  vile 
men ;  this  was  the  punishment  for  those  who  could 
not  pay  their  debts.  Wood  Street  Compter  was  re- 
moved to  Giltspur  Street  in  1791. 

The  subject  of  Fleet  weddings  has  been  treated  at 
length  in  a  certain  novel  founded  on  one  of  them. 
They  did  not  altogether  belong  to  the  baser  sort,  or 
to  the  more  profligate  sort.  Many  a  young  citizen 
arranged  with  his  mistress  to  take  her  secretly  to  the 
Fleet,  there  to  marry  her,  then  back  again  and  on 
their  knees  to  the  parents.  This  saved  the  expense 
of  the  wedding-feast,  which  was  almost  as  great  as 
that  of  the  funeral-feast. 

As  to  trade,  it  was  marching  in  giant  strides,  such 
as  even  good  old  Sir  Thomas  Gresham  had  not  con- 
sidered possible.  The  increase  of  trade  belongs  to 
the  historian  ;  we  have  only  to  notice  the  great  ware- 
houses along  Thames  Street,  the  quays  and  wharves, 
the  barges  and  lighters,  the  ships  lying  two  miles  in 
length  in  two  long  lines  below  bridge,  the  crowd  of 
stevedores,  watermen,  lightermen,  the  never-ending 
turmoil  of  those  who  loaded  and  unloaded  the  ships, 
the  solid,  sober  merchants  dressed  in  brown  cloth, 
with  white  silk  stockings  and  white  lace  ruffles  and 
neckerchiefs.  They  are  growing  rich — they  are  grow- 
ing very  rich.  London  has  long  been  the  richest  city 
in  the  world. 

These  notes  are  wholly  insufficient  to  show  the 
London  of  George  the  Second.  They  illustrate  the 
daily  life  of  the  citizens  ;  they  also  show  something  of 
the  brutality,  the  drunkenness,  and  the  rough  side  of 


GEORGE  THE   SECOND 


499 


the  lower  levels.  The  better  side  of  London — that  of 
the  scholars,  divines,  writers,  and  professional  men — 
comes  out  fully  in  the  memoirs  and  letters  of  the  pe- 
riod, which  are  fortunately  abundant.  There  we  can 
find  the  stately  courtesy  of  the  better  sort,  the  dig- 
nity, the  respect  to  rank,  the  exaction  of  respect,  the 
social  gradations  which  were  recognized  by  those 
above  as  well  as  those  below,  the  religion  which  was 
partly  formal  and  partly  touched  with  the  old  Puri- 
tanic spirit,  the  benevolence  and  the  charity  of  the 
upper  class,  coupled  with  their  determination  that 
those  below  shall  never  be  allowed  to  combine,  the 
survival  of  old  traditions,  and  all  the  other  points 
which  make  us  love  this  century  so  much.  If  any 
notes  on  London  of  this  period  omitted  mention  of 
these  points,  they  would  be  inadequate  indeed. 

These  notes  —  these  chapters  —  to  conclude,  make 
no  pretence  to  show  more  than  the  City  life ,  which 
was  decorous  at  all  times,  and  especially  during  the 
last  century.  Of  the  wickedness,  goodness,  vice,  and 
virtue  that  went  on  at  the  court,  and  among  the  aris- 
tocracy from  age  to  age,  nothing  has  been  said.  The 
moralist  has  plenty  to  say  on  this  subject.  Unfortu- 
nately, the  moralist  always  picks  out  the  worst  cases, 
and  wants  us  to  believe  that  they  are  average  speci- 
mens. A  good  deal  might  be  said,  I  am  of  opinion, 
on  the  other  side,  in  considering  the  many  virtues; 
the  courage,  loyalty,  moderation,  and  the  sense  of 
honor  which  has  always  distinguished  the  better  sort 
among  the  nobility. 

We  have  seen  London  from  age  to  age.  It  has 
changed  indeed.  Yet  in  one  thing  it  has  shown  no 


5<X>  LONDON 

change.  London  has  always  been  a  city  looking  for- 
ward, pressing  forward,  fighting  for  the  future,  using 
up  the  present  ruthlessly  for  the  sake  of  the  future, 
trampling  on  the  past.  As  it  has  been,  so  it  is.  The 
City  may  have  reached  its  highest  point  •  it  may  be 
about  to  decline ;  but  as  yet  it  shows  no  sign,  it  has 
sounded  no  note  of  decay,  or  of  decline,  or  of  growing 
age.  The  City,  which  began  with  the  East  Saxon  set- 
tlement among  the  forsaken  streets  thirteen  hundred 
years  ago,  is  still  in  the  full  strength  and  lustihood  of 
manhood — perhaps  as  yet  it  is  only  early  manhood. 
For  which,  as  in  private  duty  bound,  let  us  laud, 
praise,  and  magnify  the  Providence  which  has  so 
guided  the  steps  of  the  citizens,  and  so  filled  their 
hearts,  from  generation  to  generation,  with  the  spirit 
of  self-reliance,  hope,  and  courage. 


INDEX 


ABERGAVENNY  HOUSE,  177 

"Abram  Man,"  the,  416 

Agas,  Ralph,  map  of,  274 

Ale-houses,  number  of,  in  1736, 
476 

Alfune,  founder  of  Church  of  St. 
Giles,  Cripplegate,  63 

Alien  priories  suppressed,  240 

Alleyn,  364 

All  Hallows  the  Great,  Church  of, 
Thames  Street,  441 

Almshouses  in  the  City,  238 

Alphege,  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, 85 

Alsatia,  120 

Amusements  in  Saxon  and  Norman 
times,  90 

Anderida  destroyed,  29 

"Angler,"  the,  416 

Anglia  Metropolis,  or.  The  Present 
State  of  London,  1690,  quoted, 
400 

Anglo-  Saxon  Chronicle,  I,  8,  13  ; 
London  not  mentioned  in,  13 

Antwerp  at  commencement  of  Eliz- 
abeth's reign,  293 

Apothecaries,  474 

Apprentices,  London,  334 

Assessment  of  London  in  1397,  184 

Augusta,  fate  of,  after  the  Romans 
left,  8 

Aulaf  and  Swegen,  85 

Austin  Friars  Monastery,  112;  dis- 
tinguished persons  buried  there, 
264 

BAGNIGGE  WELLS,  492 


Baltic  Coffee-house,  477 

Bank  Side,  356 

Barber-surgeons,  474 

Barnard's  Castle,  288 

Bartholomew's  Fair,  457 

Bassing  Hall,  83 

Bath,  ruins  of  Roman  temples  at,  6 

Baynard's  Castle,  history  of,  163 

Bean  tansy,  476 

Bede's  Ecclesiastical  History,  I 

Beer-drinking,  419 

Beer  the  national  drink,  83,  481 

Bermondsey,  Abbey  of,  134,  267 

—  Spa  Gardens,  496 

Bethlehem  Hospital,  131 

Black  Friars  Church  destroyed,  267 

Blackfriars  Theatre,  308 

Blackwell  Hall,  83 

Blakeney,  William,  story  of,  249 

Blue-coat  School,  115,  303 

Bonvici,  Antonio,  170 

Bow  Church,  Mile  End  Road,  135 

Bowyers'  Company,  454 

Bradford -on -Avon,  description  of 

Church  of  St.  Laurence  at,  71 
Bread  a  luxury  in  time  of  Charles 

II.,  421 
Brewer,  Dr.,  and  his  estimate  of 

mediaeval  London,  155 
Breweries  along  the  river,  50 
Bridewell  Palace,  83 
Briset,    Jordan,    and    Muriel,    his 

wife,  65,  128 
Buildings   small   and   mean    until 

long  after  the  Norman  conquest, 

47 
Bull-baiting,  356,  361,  408 


502 


INDEX 


"Bully,"  the,  in  the  Georgian  pe- 
riod, 489 

Burghley  House,  286 
Butcher  Row,  446 

CALLEVA  ATREBATUM  destroyed,  29 
Card-makers'  Company,  454 
Card-playing  temp.  Elizabeth,  310 
Carmelites,  the,  119 
Carpenter,   John,    founder   of    the 

City  of  London  School,  193 
Carthusians,  House  of  the,  120 
Castellan   and  standard  -  bearer  to 

the  City  of  London,  164 
Cedd,  Bishop,  53 
Champneys,  Sir  John,  311 
Chapter  Coffee-house,  477 
Charing  Cross,  141 
Charles,   King,   deplorable   morals 

of  Court  of,  371 
Charter  House,  128,  266 

School,  303 

Chaucer,  149 
Chepe,  334,  337 

—  East,  butchers  in,  217 

—  of  mediaeval  London,  185 

—  the  chief  market  of  the  City,  50 

—  West,  mercers  and  haberdashers 
in,  217 

Chester,  battle  of,  in  607,  ill 

Chichele,  Sir  Robert,  194 

Christ  Church,  built  by  Wren,  115 

Christian  symbols  and  emblems 
found  on  site  of  Roman  towns,  5 

Christ's  Hospital,  115 

Church  of  England  in  time  of 
George  II.,  436 

Churches,  the  thirteen  large  con- 
ventual, 54 

—  penalties  for  absence  from,  442 
Cistercian  Order,  123 

City  companies,  formation  of,  208 

—  foreign  trade  of,  190 

—  holidays,  236 

—  of  London  School  founded  by 
John  Carpenter,  193 


City  residences  of  the  nobility,  174 

—  wall,  81,  in 

—  water  supply  of,  83 

—  wealth  of,  184 

—  worthies,  194 

"  Clapperdozen,"  the,  416 

Cloth  Fair,  63 

Clubs,  477 

Cnut,  85 

Coals,  duty  on,  to  rebuild  public 

buildings  after  the  Great   Fire, 

400 
Cock-fighting  on  Shrove  Tuesday, 

224 

Cockpit  Theatre,  308 
Coffee-houses,  business  carried  on 

at,  477 

—  first  started  temp.   Charles  II., 
411 

Cold  Harborough,  house  built  by 

Sir  John  Poultney,  166,  289 
Companies,  City,  formation  of,  208 
Congreve's  "Way  of  the  World," 

410 
Cordwainer  Street,  shoemakers  in, 

217 

Cornhill,  drapers  in,  217 
Court  of  Judicature  created  after 

the  Great  Fire,  399 
Craftsmen  of  London,  215 
Cranmer  and  Waltham  Abbey,  139 
Cromwell  House,  265 

—  Lord,  325 
Crosby  Hall,  170,  289 

—  Sir  John,  169 

Crutched  Friars'  Church  turned 
into  a  carpenter's  shop  and  ten- 
nis court,  265 

Priory  of,  in 

Cuneglass,  King,  3 

Curfew  bell,  the,  243 

Curtain  Theatre,  Shoreditch,  307 

DAILY  LIFE,  Elizabethan,  303 
Dances  in  time  of  Elizabeth,  310 
Danes,  the,  47 


INDEX 


503 


Debtors'  prison  in  the  Georgian  era, 

496 
Debts,  like  property,  destroyed  by 

the  Great  Fire,  402 
Defoe,  Daniel,  and  his  account  of 

the  Plague,  377 

—  trades  enumerated  by,  380 
Derby  House,  163,  289 
Dick's  Coffee-house,  411 
Dominicans,  first  settlement  of,  in 

Chancery  Lane,  118 
"Dommerer,"  the,  416 
Dover,  St.  Mary's  Church  at,  75 
Dress  of  the  time  of  George  II.,  458 
Drinking    and    fires   the    pests    of 

London,  52 

—  habits  in  the  time  of  George  II., 

475 

—  in  time  of  Charles  II.,  407 
Dryden,  John,  on  the  Great  Fire, 

404 

D'Urfey,  Tom,  songs  of,  412 
Durovernum  destroyed,  29 

EAST  INDIA  COMPANY,  the,  297 
Eastland  Company,  the,  297 
Eastminster,  133 

—  pulled  down,  263 

Edmund,  Earl  of  Lancaster,  founds 

Holywell  Nunnery,  132 
Education  of  girls,  thorough,  temp. 

Elizabeth,  314 

Edward  II.  and  the  City,  205 
Edward  IV.  and  Baynard's  Castle, 

164 

Elbing,  merchants  of,  296 
Eleanor,  Queen,  a  benefactor  of  St. 

Katherine's  by  the  Tower,  66 
Elizabethan  Daily  Life,  303 

—  house,  the,  286 

—  pageants,  304 

Elsing's   Spital,  founded  in   1329, 

144 

Elsing,  William,  197,  238 
England,  Conquest  of,  completed, 


Epping  Forest,  233 
Erber  House,  history  of,  169 
Ermyn  Street,  23 
Estfield,  Sir  William,  197 
Ethelbald,  King,  grant  of,  to  Bish- 
op of  Rochester,  47 
Etheling,  Edmund,  85 
Ethelwerd,  i 

FALCON  TAVERN,  Bank  Side,  362 
Famines  in  London,  240 
Fire,  Great,  of  London,  394 

John  Dryden  on,  404 

destruction  caused  by,  397 

Fires,  great,  of  London,  394 
Fitz-Stephen,  William,  48,  51 
Fleet  weddings,  483,  498 
Flemings,  the,  44 
Fletchers'  Company,  454 
Flogging  in  the  army   and   navy, 

484 
Food  in   the  time  of  George  II., 

475 

—  of  the  citizens,  236 

Fortune  Theatre,  Whitecross  Street, 
308 

Foxe's  Book  of  Martyrs,  written  at 
Waltham  Abbey,  139 

Franciscans,  the,  113 

Franklin,  Benjamin,  on  beer-drink- 
ing in  a  London  printing-house, 
420 

Fraternities,  the,  147 

Fratres  de  Saccd,  139 

Froissart  on  the  Londoners,  205 

Fuller,  Thomas,  wrote  his  Church 
History  at  Waltham  Abbey,  139 

Funerals,  484 

Furniture  in  mediaeval  times,  181 

Fustarers'  Company,  453 

GAMING  temp.  Elizabeth,  310 
Gambling  in  the  time  of  Charles 

H.,  415 

Gardens  in  Saxon  and  Norman 
times,  89 


504 


INDEX 


Garraway's  Coffee-house,  477 

Gascony  wine,  ingredients  of,  473 

Gates  of  the  City  closed  at  sunset 
until  1760,  433 

Gay's  Trivia,  description  of  Lon- 
don in,  436 

Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  I 

Gerrard's  Hall  in  Basing  Lane,  179 

Gildas,  1-3,  25,  43 

Gin-shops,  number  of,  in  1736,  476 

Girls,  education  of,  thorough,  in 
time  of  Elizabeth,  314 

Gisors,  John,  179 

Glasse,  Mrs.,  and  her  book  on  cook- 
ery, 475 

Globe  Theatre,  Bank  Side,  307, 
356 

Glovers'  Company,  laws  and  regu- 
lations of,  209 

Government  situations  bought  in 
time  of  George  II.,  482 

Greenstead  Church,  Essex,  71 

Greenwich  Fair,  457 

Gresham  College,  301 

—  House,  288 

—  Sir   Thomas,    account   of,   290, 
301 ;  builds  the  Royal  Exchange, 
294 ;  crest  of,  294 

Grey  Friars,  foundation  of,  113 

Church,  celebrated  persons 

buried  here,  267 

Guildhall,  remains  of  Roman  Lon- 
don in,  48 

Guilds,  50,  208 

Guthrun's  Lane,  goldsmiths  in,  217 

HABERDASHERS'  COMPANY,  452 

Hainault  Forest,  233 

Hampton  Court,  288 

Hanseatic  League,  182 

Harding,  Stephen,  founder  of  the 
Cistercian  Order,  123 

Harold  at  Waltham  Abbey,  138 

Hengist  and  Horsa,  9 

Henry  VI.  erects  new  grammar- 
schools,  240,  303 


Heraclius,  Patriarch  of  Jerusalem, 

129 

Heralds'  College,  162,  174 
Herbalist,  474 
Holy  Trinity,  Aldgate,  founded  by 

Queen  Matilda,  64,  ill 

Church,  Minories,  132 

Holywell  Nunnery,  132 
Horsa,  Hengist  and,  9 
Household   accounts   of  a  family, 

1677-79.  4i6 

—  in  time  of  George  II.,  465 

—  furniture,  inventory  of,  of  new- 
ly-married pair,  temp.  I4th  cen- 
tury, 253 

Hudson's  Bay  Company,  375 
"  Huffs,"  415 
Hutchinson,  Lucy,  314 

IRONMONGERS'  LANE,  ironmongers 
in,  217 

JAMAICA  COFFEE-HOUSE,  477 
Jerusalem  Coffee-house,  478 
Jesus  Commons,  foundation  of,  144 
Jonathan's  Coffee-house,  478 
Jonson,  Ben,  363,  365 
Justice  under  the  Plantagenets,  245 
Jutes,  the,  9,  27,  28 

KIDNAPPERS  of  the  Georgian  era, 

486 
Kingston -on -Hull,  Trinity  House 

at,  87 
Knights    Hospitallers,   Church   of, 

blown  up  with  gunpowder,  266 

LADIES'  BOWER,  the,  89 

—  occupation  of,  in  time  of  George 

I.,  478 

Latroon,  Meiiton,  Life  of,  414 
Lepers,  lazar-house  established  in 

St.  Giles  in  the  Fields  for,  141 
Life  in  the  time  of  George  II.,  460 
"  Limitour,"  the,  in  Chaucer,  149 
Lloyd's  Coffee-house,  478 


INDEX 


505 


Loftie's  History  of  London,  13,  22 
Lombard  Street,  drapers  in,  217 

Gresham's  shop  in,  301 

London  a  city  of  ruins,  temp.  Eliza- 
beth, 263 

—  commercial  centre  of  the  world, 
temp.  Elizabeth,  293 

—  conquest  of,  by  the  men  of  Es- 
sex, compared  with  that  of  Jeru- 
salem by  Titus,  40 

—  conversion  of,  A.D.  604,  45 

—  craftsmen  of,  215 

—  described  by  William  Fitz-Ste- 
phen,  48 

—  desolate  state  of,  after  the  Ro- 
man period,  34 

—  drinking  and  fires  the  pests  of,  5  2 

—  found  deserted  by  the  East  Sax- 
ons, 34 

—  mediaeval,    description  of,    157, 

185 

—  merchant  generally  a  gentleman, 
200 

—  municipal  history  of,  91 

—  not  mentioned  in  Anglo-Saxon 
Chfonicle,  12 

—  population  of,  temp.  Richard  II., 

49 

—  rebuilding  of,  after  Great  Fire, 

398 

—  Saxon  and  Norman,  described, 
92 

—  veritable  mother  of  saints,  45 
London  Bridge,  chapel  on,  78 
first  stone,  77 

songs  on,  81 

Londoners  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth, 

278 
Long  Bowstring-makers'  Company, 

454 
Loriners'  Company,  454 

MAIL-COACHES,  464 
Malpas,  Philip,  238 
Manners,  City,  in  time  of  Charles 
II.,  407 


Manny,  Sir  Walter,  120 
Matilda,  Queen  of  Henry  I.,  65 

—  wife   of  King  Stephen,   founds 
St.  Katherine's  by  the  Tower,  65 

Maurice,  Bishop,  53 
May-day  in  the  City,  231 
May  Fair,  457 
May-pole,  the,  332 
Mediaeval  furniture,  181 

—  London,  description  of,  157 

—  names,  survival  of,  19 
Megusers'  Company,  453 
Mellitus,  first  Bishop  of  London, 

39 

Mercers'  Chapel,  142 
Merchant  adventurers,  the,  295,  296 

—  London,  generally  a  gentleman, 
200 

—  Taylors'  School,  303 
Misrule,  feast  of,  309 

"  Mithridate"  water,  473 

Mitre  Tavern,  351 

Monastery  towns  grow  rapidly  and 

prosper,  46 

Monk  in  Chaucer,  150 
Moorfields,  people  camped  in,  after 

the  Great  Fire,  399 
More,    Sir    Thomas,    and    Crosby 

Hall,  170 

Morris-dancing,  233 
Mughouse  a  kind  of  music-hall,  480 
"  Mumpus,"  the,  416 
Municipal  London,  history  of,  91 
Mystery  plays,  94 

NENNIUS,  i 
New  Abbey,  133 

pulled  down,  263 

Newspapers  about  1750,  465 
Nobility,  residences  of,  in  City,  177 
Norman  House,  description  of,  86 

—  London,  monuments  of,  52 
Northumberland  House,  288 
site  originally  of  Hospital  of 

St.  Mary  Rounceval,  141 
Nunneries  in  Saxon  times,  93 


INDEX 


OLD  JEWRY,  branch  of  the  Fratres 

de  Saccd  established  in,  139 
"  Oxford  Clerk  "  in  Chaucer,  150 

PADS,  415 
Pageants,  City,  224 

—  Elizabethan,  305 

Palaces  of  the  nobility  in  the  City, 

174 

Papey  College,  144 
Pardon  Church-yard,  121 
"  Pardoner  "  in  Chaucer,  153 
Parish    organization    in    time    of 

George  II.,  439 
Patten-makers'  Company,  454 
Pattens,  484 
Pecock,  Reginald,  Bishop  of  Chich- 

ester,  194 
Pembroke,    Earl,    and     Baynard's 

Castle,  166 
Pepys'  Diary,  417 
Pepys  on  the  Great  Fire  of  London, 

395 

—  on  the  Plague,  377 
Perranazabuloe  Church,  75 
Pewterers'  Company,  454 
Philippa,  Queen,  a  benefactor  of 

St.  Katherine's  by  the  Tower,  66 
"Philo  Puttonists,"  415 
Philpot,  Sir  John,  190 
Picard,  Sir  Henry,  179 
Pilgrims,  57 

—  consecration  of,  60 

—  office  of,  58 
Pillory,  the,  247 
"  Pimpinios,"  415 
Plague,  the,  376 

—  at  Astrakhan  in  1879,  387 

—  at  Marseilles  in  1720,  387 

—  Daniel  Defoe  on,  377 

—  loss  caused  to  trade  by,  384 

—  Pepys  on,  377 

—  remedies  for,  advertised,  408 

—  water,  473 
Plagues,  376 

—  of  London,  120 


Plagues  of  1603  and  1625,  387 
Plantagenet  London,  religious 
houses  the  most  conspicuous  feat- 
ure of,  107 
Poisoning,  men  boiled  and  women 

burned  for,  318 
Population  of  London  according  to 

Fitz-Stephen,  84 
Post-office  rates  about  1750,  464 
Prentice,    London,    temp.    Charles 

II.,  414 
Prices  of  food  about  1750,  462 

in  time  of  Charles  II.,  462 

"  Prioress,"  the,  in  Chaucer,  149 
Punishments   under  the   Plantage- 
nets,  318 

QUACKS,  474 
Queen's  wardrobe,  174 
Quintain,  the,  304 

RAHERE,  55,  56,  60,  63 
Rainbow  Coffee-house,  411 
Rainwell,  Sir  John,  197 
Ranelagh  Gardens,  494 
Red  Bull  Theatre,  St.  John  Street, 

307 

Red  Cross,  Order  of,  in 
Reeds,  floors  covered  with,  87 
Reformation,  the,  and  destruction 

of  ecclesiastical  buildings,  270 
Religious  houses  the  most  conspic- 
uous feature  of  Plantagenet  Lon- 
don, 108 

Rents  about  1750,  461 
Richard  of  Cirencester,  I 
Richard  II.  and  the  City,  206 
Riley's  Memorials  of  London,  21 
Robins's  Coffee-house,  478 
Rogues  and  vagabonds,  temp.  Eliza- 
beth, 314 

Roman    customs,   no   trace   of   in 
London,  21 

—  remains,  42 

—  London,  City  wall  about  three 
miles  long,  17 


INDEX 


SO/ 


Roman  London  dependent  on  sup- 
plies from  without  24 

description  of,  12-18 

probable  population  of,  17 

the  only  port  in  the  kingdom, 

IS 

—  street,  no  trace  of,  in  London, 
20 

—  town,  construction  of,  20 
Rooks,  415 

Royal  African  Company,  the,  297 

—  Exchange,  334 

—  temp.  Charles  II.,  410 

—  Society,  Institution  of,  375 
"  Ruffins,"  415 

"  Rufflers,"  415 

Russian  Company,  the,  297 

Rutupiae  destroyed,  29 

ST.  ALPHEGE  CHURCH,  145 

St.  Anthony,  patron   and  saint   of 

the  grocers,  208 
St.  Bartholomew's  Priory,  267 
St.   Bartholomew  the  Great,  built 

by  Rahere,  55 
St.  Botolph,  church  dedicated  to, 

46 
St.  Clare,  abbey  of,  called  the  Min- 

ories,  132,  263 

St.  Dunstan,  church  dedicated  to,  46 
St.  Dunstan's  in  the  East,  church 

of,  built  after  the  Great  Fire,  400 
St.   Edmund    the    Martyr,    church 

dedicated  to,  46 
St.  Erkenwald  builds  Bishopsgate, 

45 

St.  Ethelburga,  45 
St.  Giles,  Cripplegate,  founded  by 

Alfune,  63 

in  the  Fields,  church  of,  140 

St.   Giles's   Hospital,   founded  by 

Queen  Matilda,  63 
St.  Helen,  church  of,  112 
St.  Helen's  Nunnery  becomes  the 

property   of    the    Leathersellers' 

Company,  266 


St.  James,  Clerkenwell.parish  church 

of,  131 

St.  John  of  Jerusalem,  priory  of, 
65,  128;  destroyed  by  rebels  un- 
der Wat  Tyler,  130 
St.  John's  Gate,  Clerkenwell,  128 
St.  Katherine's  by  the  Tower,  65 
St.  Magnus,  church  dedicated  to,  46 
St.  Martin,  the  patron  saint  of  sad- 
dlers, 208 

Outwich,  church  of,  297 

St.  Martin's  le  Grand,  a  house  of 
Augustine  Canons,  113 

church    of,    tavern   built   on 

site  of,  267 

sanctuary  and  collegiate 

church  of,  55 
St.  Mary  Axe,  328;  skinners  in,  217 

of  Bethlehem,  hospital  of,  131 

Overies,  legend  of,  67 

Rounceval,    hospital    of,    at 

Charing  Cross,  141 
St.  Mary's,  or  Bow  Church,  135 

Spital,  hospital  of,  131 

destroyed,  266 

St.  Michael's  Church,  choir  and 
aisles  rebuilt  by  Sir  William  Wai- 
worth,  143 

College,  Crooked  Lane,  143 

St.  Olaf,  church  dedicated  to,  46 
St.  Osyth,  Queen  and  Martyr,  45 
St.    Paul's,    Cathedral  of,   53,   54, 
109,  346 

Cross,  344 

first  church  of,  destroyed  by 

fire,  48 

School,  303 

St.  Swithin,  church  dedicated  to,  46 
St.  Thomas  of  Aeon,  College  of,  142 
St.  Thomas's  Hospital,  134,  146 
St.  Vedast,  church  of,  76 
Salutation  of  the  Mother  of  God, 

house  of  the,  120 
Saxon  house,  description  of,  86 
—  London,  destroyed  by  fire  1135, 
48 


508 


INDEX 


Saxon  London,  darkest  period  of 
any,  48 

foreign  merchants  in,  44 

no  remains  of,  53 

—  women,  employment  of,  92 
Saxons,  East,  35 

before  and  after  conversion 

to  Christianity,  44 

—  fond  of  vegetables,  87 
Schools,  Grammar,  erected  by  Hen- 
ry VI.,  240,  303 

in  time  of  Elizabeth,  302 

—  of  the  alien  priories  suppressed, 
240 

Sebbi,  King,  53 

Selds,  186 

Sernes  Tower,  83 

Servants,  ladies  used  to  beat,  310 

—  troop  of,  a  mark  of  state,  310 

"  Setter,"  the,  in  the  Georgian  pe- 
riod, 489 

Sevenoke,  Sir  William,  194,  216 

"  Shabbaroons,"  415 

Shakespeare,  William,  364 

Sion  College,  269 

Smithfield,  horse-fair  in,  51 

"  Sompnour"  in  Chaucer,  150 

Soper's  Lanet  pepperers  and  gro- 
cers in,  217 

Southwark  Fair,  457 

Sports,  51,  223 

Stage-coaches,  465 

Staple,  Sir  Richard,  297 

Steelyard,  the,  182 

Still-room,  importance  of  the,  473 

Stodie,  Sir  John,  179,  238 

Stow,  John,  the  antiquary,  320 

Sunday  amusements  in  the  Georgian 
period,  490 

Sutton,  Thomas,  266 

Swan  Inn,  Dowgate,  368 

—  with  Two  Ne_cks,  the,  465 

TAXES  of  a  house  about  1750,  462 
Tea  becomes  cheaper,  temp.  Charles 
II.,  410 


Tea-drinking,  467 

—  John  Wesley  on,  470 
Temple  Bar,  433 

—  Church,  the,  67 

Thames,  River,  in  Tudor  times,  366 

—  Street,  fishmongers  in,  217 
Theatre  companies,  temp.  Elizabeth, 

3<>7 

—  first,  built  in  1570,  307 
Theatres  at  end  of  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, 307 

Tobacco,   use  of,  spreads  rapidly, 

313 

Tofig,  the  royal  standard-bearer,  136 
Tom's  Coffee-house,  411 
Torgnton,   Desiderata  de,   hanged 

for  theft,  247 
Torold,    Roger,    imprisoned    for 

speaking   disrespectfully   of    the 

mayor,  247 

Tournaments,  temp.  Elizabeth,  304      . 
Tower  of  London,  82 
"  Town  Parson  "  in  Chaucer,  150 

—  Royal,  82 

Trade,  foreign,  of  City,  190 

—  great  advance  of,  in  time  of  Eliz- 
abeth, 289,  295 

—  loss  and  injury  caused  to,  by  the 
Plague,  384 

Trades  carried  on  in  the  City,  218 

—  enumerated  by  Daniel  Defoe,  380 

—  of  the  City  allotted  their  own 
places  of  work  and  sale,  50 

Tradition,  continuity  of,  20 
Turkey  Company,  the,  297 

VEGETABLES  as  part  of  daily  diet 

reintroduced,  313 
Venice  treacle,  473 
Vicinal  Way,  23 
Vintners'  Hall,  179 
Vintry,  the,  179 
Vox   Civitatis,  tract   on    the 

Plague,  392 

WAGES  of  the  craftsmen,  243 


INDEX 


509 


Walls,  City,  433 

Waltham  Abbey  Church,  135 

Cranmer  at,  139 

Foxe's  Book  of  Martyrs  writ- 
ten here,  139 

Harold  at,  138 

history  of,  136-139 

Thomas  Fuller  wrote  his 

Church  History  here,  139 

Walworth,  Sir  William,  194 

Wardens  of  Companies,  211 

Washington,  arms  of,  in  Holy  Trin- 
ity Church,  Minories,  132 

Water,  supply  of,  83 

Watling  Street,  23 

Weavers,  Guild  of,  208 

Wells,  Sir  John,  197 

Wesley,  John,  on  tea-drinking,  470 

Wethell,  Richard,  311 

Wheat,  price  of,  in  time  of  George 
II.,  482 


"  Whip  Jack,"  the,  416 

Whitawers'  Company,  453 

White  Friars,  the  house  of  the  Car- 
melites, 119 

Whitefriars  Theatre,  308 

Whittington,  Richard,  180,  199, 
290,  301 

—  College  of,  143 

"  Wild  Rogue,"  the,  416 

William  of  Wykeham,  55 

Willoughby,  Sir  Hugh,  297 

Winchester  House,  264,  269,  289 

Window-tax,  462 

Wine-drinking,  introduced  by  Nor- 
mans, 88 

Women,  English,  excel  in  embroid- 
ery, 92 

Wonderful  Year,  The,  pamphlet  on 
plague,  387 

Wood  Street  Compter,  a  prison, 
497 


THE  END 


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